


Locks and Keys

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxiety, Bathing/Washing, Caretaking, Crying, Cunnilingus, Denial Kink, Domesticity, Double Vaginal Penetration, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, No Condom, Oral Sex, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory, Relationship insecurity, Rimming, Sickfic, Snowballing, Vomiting, anxiety attack, feelings talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-31 07:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: "I’m sleeping with the guy sitting next to me and his girlfriend," probably wouldn’t go over too well. Anyway, they weren’t… just sleeping together. Maybe? In Ryan’s experience, when a couple brought a third into their relationship it wasn’t as if the third became part of the relationship. He was pretty sure that his days were numbered. He had to just enjoy it while he could.Ryan has some... insecurities about his relationship with Shane and Sara. They do their best to help assuage them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is long as hell - new tags will be added as needed. 
> 
> Million, zillion, billion thanks to my beta, who has the patience of a saint. I <3 you, Cinco!

It all started because of the stupid, stupid interview. 

Unsolved was getting big, big enough that Ryan and Shane were interviewed for an actual television broadcast, which was exciting! It was a puff piece, admittedly - “look at these talented people who work at Buzzfeed!” - but at least it wasn’t about all the layoffs. It was just Ryan and Shane on a couch, talking about the show.

There were all the usual anecdotes, Ryan talking about his belief in ghosts, Shane razzing him for it and Ryan razzing him back. Back and forth, falling into their easy, familiar banter. And then the reporter turned her smile to Ryan and said, “Shane, we know that you’re seeing someone, but what about you, Ryan?” 

_I’m sleeping with the guy sitting next to me and his girlfriend_ probably wouldn’t go over too well. Anyway, they weren’t… just sleeping together. Maybe? In Ryan’s experience, when a couple brought a third into their relationship it wasn’t as if the third became _part_ of the relationship. He was pretty sure that his days were numbered. He had to just enjoy it while he could.

“Do you have a special someone to go on romantic ghost hunts with?” The reporter was grinning at him. 

_You mean it isn’t romantic when me and Shane sleep amongst the rat poop?_ was what Ryan wanted to say. “No,” Ryan said instead. “I’m single, presently.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’ll find a lucky lady,” said the reporter, and moved on to the next question. Ryan didn’t think too much of it; one of the tricks to doing a good interview was not getting too bogged down. By the time the interview was over, he just wanted to go get lunch with Shane. 

* * *

It wasn’t until that they were sitting in the cafe that he caught the look Shane was shooting him. “What’s up?”

“Hm?” Shane made brief eye contact, then looked down at his sandwich. 

“What’s up, bud?” Ryan took a bite of his own sandwich, chewing carefully.

“Nothing,” said Shane. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long week.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry, big guy,” said Ryan. “You wanna call off our date tomorrow?”

“Only if you do,” said Shane, looking at Ryan oddly. 

“No, I still wanna do it,” said Ryan. He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of that look, so he took another bite of his sandwich. 

“You know,” Shane said after a few minutes, “you’re always welcome at, uh, at me and Sara’s place. We should get you a key.”

“A key?” Ryan tried not to sound too surprised. 

It wasn’t that he thought Sara and Shane were bad people. Far from it! They were the nicest people he knew, except when they weren’t. He knew what to expect from this kind of relationship. They were a nice couple, he was their friend with benefits on the side. And maybe he’d like the idea of being more than that, but he’d also like a million dollars and a closed office plan. 

You took what you could get in life.

He was going to wring all the happiness out of this that he could get, and when they got ready to settle down he’d move on with his life. He’d probably hurt for a good long while, but until then he might as well enjoy himself, right? Okay, so there was some jealousy when he heard them do things like make vacation plans, and _okay_ , there was a bit of a pang when he’d said he was single, but… whatever. 

And part of the expectation in these sorts of situations was that he was invited over when they wanted him around. A key had… implications. 

“Yeah,” said Shane, and he smiled at Ryan. “You’re always welcome with us. I just… wanna make that clear.” 

“Right,” said Ryan. “Of course.” What was he missing?

“We should head back to the office,” said Shane.

“What do you wanna do tomorrow night?” Ryan took a slug of his drink. 

Shane shrugged. “I was hoping for, uh, y’know, date stuff,” he said. He looked singularly uncomfortable. “Sara was, uh… interested in maybe just doing the Netflix thing, catch up on that weird German series.”

“What, the one with the time travel and all the dead birds?” Ryan tried to remember the plot - it had been a bit tricky.

“Yeah,” Shane said, looking distracted. “That one.”

Ryan was used to Shane being a space cadet while tired, but the look on his face now was… different. It all felt different, and it put Ryan on edge. Shane kept shooting him looks as the two of them made their way back to the office, and some of Shane’s joviality seemed pasted on. 

* * *

The next day, Shane seemed more absorbed in work than usual. He had his eyes on the screen, and nodded vaguely when Ryan sat down. Ryan didn’t think too deeply about it - Shane always got a little spacy when he was doing one of his research deep dives. He plugged his headphones in and got to typing.

He was interrupted at one point by Sara, who insisted on taking him to lunch. She was giving him odd looks, and seemed jittery. He was definitely missing something. 

“Can I ask you a weird question?” Sara's elbows were on the table as she picked at her pasta.

“Go for it,” said Ryan. He’d ordered a larger sandwich than he probably should have, and was debating if he should get up and ask them to wrap it, or if he could use the paper they’d used to wrap the sandwich in the first place.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve, uh… you’ve joined a couple, right? I mean, before me and Shane.” Sara fiddled with her fork, twisting the handle between two fingers. 

“Yeah, a while ago,” Ryan said. “A bunch of years ago.” 

It had been pretty nice… until it hadn’t been. But it had mostly been his fault - he’d made assumptions about what he meant to them that they hadn’t actually reciprocated, and he’d had a broken heart for a while. He’d gotten over it, the way you do. 

“Was it… was it like this? The way we do it, I mean.” Sara bit her lip, looking nervous. 

“It was different in a lot of ways,” Ryan said, which was true. It was nice to be in your late twenties in a relationship - it made everything a lot less… fraught. It also meant that the expiration date of the whole arrangement loomed more than it had back then, but Ryan could live with that. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Sara and Shane to treat him well - he knew they would always do their best! It was just… well, sooner or later, the couple would come first. That was how it always went. He’d made his peace - or at least, as close as he could get - with it a while ago. 

“Right,” said Sara. She looked down at her pasta again and then glanced up at him, her expression cheerful. It looked a little put-on, but he could only tell because he knew how to read her face like a book. “You looking forward to tonight?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said. “That show was fuckin’ _weird_.”

“What do you want for dinner?” She took a bite of her pasta, her eyes still on his face. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought she was anxious - but what would she be anxious about? Unless something was going on that he wasn’t clued in on yet, which was a distinct possibility. 

…Ryan wasn’t going to go down that path, because he once started chasing his tail he'd never get anything done. 

“I’m good with anything,” said Ryan. 

“You sure? Even lutefisk?” Sara shot him a sidelong look that he couldn’t read.

“I mean, okay, anything _reasonable_ ,” said Ryan, laughing.

She nudged him, her toes bare in her sandal, and he pressed his leg into it. “I’m sure it’s reasonable to some people out there,” said Sara.

“Those people are _wrong_ ,” Ryan said firmly, and he wrinkled his nose. 

“Or maybe you’re wrong. Didja think of that?” Sara stuck her tongue out at him, and Ryan snickered and prodded her with his foot.

She prodded him back. 

* * * 

When Ryan arrived at Sara and Shane’s apartment, there was something… off. Shane and Sara kept looking at him nervously, almost like they were expecting him to… what? It was honestly starting to get on his nerves. Unless the inevitable was on its way earlier than he expected. He sat between them on the couch, catching the occasional sidelong glance, and he tried to relax. It was important to enjoy himself while he could. Shane was more stiff than usual, but he didn’t seem to be particularly… withdrawn. It wasn’t until Sara paused the show and Shane cleared his throat that the anxiety began to climb up his back.

It had been good. But it was ending already? _Really?_

“Ryan,” Sara began, and his stomach sank down into his legs. “Can we talk about something?”

Shane had crossed his arms and was staring at his lap. He looked very… stoic. It wasn’t a look that Shane wore very well. 

“Yeah?” He sat up, pulling away from both of them almost unconsciously. It was coming. He braced himself, trying not to let the lump in his throat get any bigger. He’d be fine. It would all be fine. It would be awkward and weird at work, but he’d manage. They were probably talking about getting married or something. They didn’t need a third mooching around on the sidelines. 

“Are you… are you mad at us? Or mad at me, I guess, or at Shane? I don’t want to just talk about it like part of some big cohesive “us” when there’s three people involved in this whole… affair.” Sara trailed off, her expression anxious. 

“What?” Ryan blinked at Sara. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. 

“We… that is, _I_ know I did, and I think Sara does,” Shane said, and he made eye contact with her over Ryan’s line of sight, “we thought that the three of us were… a thing.”

“We… are?” Ryan could feel his eyebrows knitting together. What was going on?

“It’s just… when you were asked if you were seeing anyone, in the interview,” Shane said, “you said you were single.” His voice was surprisingly flat. 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “That’s just ‘cause, y’know, I didn’t want them to get nosy.”

“Oh,” said Shane, and some of the tension left his shoulders. “Because… you know, you’re my boyfriend. Or at least, I thought you were. Think you are.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ryan said gently. “You’ve made it clear. I just figured you wouldn't want me to say it out loud, since it’s not actually… respectable.”

Shane shrugged. “I’ve never been concerned with respectability,” he said. “I just… I guess I was surprised at how much it hurt to hear you say that you were single.”

“Oh,” said Ryan. That was unexpected. “What would you want me to say in the future?” The last time he’d been dating a couple, they’d wanted him to be a lot more… discreet about the whole thing. That was their word choice - discreet. It turned out to mean “dirty little secret,” but he'd been younger and stupider and in the kind of hopeless love that only comes to the young(ish) and stupid. 

“I… I figured you didn’t want people to know we were dating since you’re not, y’know, out,” Shane said, and his cheeks were turning red. The flush moved upwards, towards his forehead. 

“What, out as polyamorous, or out as queer?” Ryan’s head spun. In what world was the couple okay with being out about… well, any of this?

“Both of them, I guess,” said Shane. “And me and Sara haven’t been out about being polyamorous, but that’s mainly just… effort.” He made a vague hand gesture.

“So you’d… want people to know that we’re a thing?” Ryan’s voice cracked. Why did his voice crack?

“I thought we were dating,” Sara said, her voice very quiet. “I mean, maybe we _should_ have sat down and talked about it first -”

“No, no, I’m okay with us dating,” Ryan said quickly. “Just, uh… surprised that you felt strongly enough about it to say something.” 

“So to be clear,” said Shane, “are you okay with me telling people that we’re dating? Not… like, anyone on the street, obviously, but maybe our coworkers?”

“Sure,” said Ryan, although his face must have been doing _something_ because Sara was looking at him funny. “What’s up?”

“You’re not telling us something,” Sara said, with finality. 

Ryan flushed. “What makes you say that?”

“You should never play poker,” she told him. “You can’t bluff.” 

“I’m not bluffing,” Ryan protested. “I’m just… surprised, is all.”

“Surprised? What are you surprised about?” Sara got off of the couch to pace and Ryan’s side was immediately cold. 

“Aren’t you, uh… worried about it backfiring, eventually?” Ryan wanted to be pacing, come to think of it. Or maybe not - maybe he just wanted to run off into the blue yonder, leaving a Ryan-shaped hole in the air. 

“What do you mean, eventually?” Shane frowned. His shoulders were still tense.

Ryan should have kept his stupid mouth shut. He was ruining a perfectly good thing here, and he knew it. And yet he kept going, like the idiot he was. “Well,” he said, “I know that eventually you’re gonna get sick of me, or want to get married, or have a kid, or… well, some other big life event.” He avoided eye contact, but caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye - Shane leaning forward, maybe? 

“Why would you think that we wouldn’t want you in our lives during or after a big event?” Sara stopped pacing and stood in front of him - he could see her feet, her painted-blue toenails. Her toes curled into the carpet.

“Well,” Ryan said, and he cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly full. When had that happened? “I mean… I know you guys are eventually going to get tired of me. That’s how it goes. You're a young couple, footloose and fancy free, but eventually you'll want to go back to having a _real_ relationship, and then… well, you don’t need a third for that.” It sounded so… unpleasant, when he put it like that. Almost mean-spirited. He bit his lip to keep it from wobbling.

“What?” Shane’s voice was full of enough shock that Ryan looked up at him, surprised. He looked like he’d been slapped in the face. 

“It’s… that’s how it goes,” Ryan said, and he tried to sound gentle. Some part of him resented this - that he had to explain it to them, when they were going to put him through it. “I know you guys are good people, but eventually you’ll want to… move on. And that’s not going to include me. That kind of thing never includes me. At least… not when I’m a third. If it were just me and one of you guys and we were monogamous, maybe, but… well…” He trailed off.

“Do you… do you not want to be involved with us? If we do big life things, I mean.” Sara sounded like she was speaking from a long way off.

“It’s not a matter of _wanting_ it or not,” Ryan said patiently. “I know that if you ever want to be seen as respectable -”

“Fuck respectable,” Shane interrupted, one hand hovering over Ryan’s knee as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. It stayed there for another second, then dropped down to cover Ryan’s knee entirely and squeeze. “I want to be with you. As my partner, until one of us is dead or joins a cult or something like that.” Shane was turning red but soldiering on. “I want that with… both of you.” 

“Don’t you want to… y’know, get married, have a legitimate wedding?” Ryan didn’t like how his voice cracked.

“Ryan, it’s the twenty-first century and you still believe in marriage?” Sara sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “Next you’ll tell me you believe in the moon landing!” There was a slightly tremulous note to her voice, and Ryan’s stomach twisted up. 

“I’m not exactly ready for marriage talk,” said Shane, and he looked faintly uncomfortable. “I don’t know if that’s a thing I _ever_ want to do. And anything like that… we wouldn’t just _abandon_ you.” 

Ryan stared at his lap, tensing when Shane’s hand came up to rest on his shoulder. He looked up to meet his eyes. 

“As long as we’re any kind of together - dating, close friends, whatever - you’re gonna be part of any plans we make,” Shane said. “As long as you… want to be, I mean. This is the first time we’ve done the whole triad thing, but you’re important to me. To us. Both of us.” He looked down, biting his lip. 

“Seriously,” said Sara, her hand on top of Ryan’s head. “Okay?”

“O-okay,” Ryan said. What was he feeling? He wasn’t sure. Something that was almost like shock, because… he never expected to hear _this_. 

Sara sat next to him again with her arm around his waist, her head on his shoulder. “It’s true, y’know,” she said, quiet; it buzzed over his skin. “We’re not going to drop you. I promise.”

“...I believe you,” Ryan said, and he almost did, pressed there between the two of them. Her hand slid into his, and then Shane’s crept into his other hand. He squeezed both of them as his heart pounded like a jackhammer. 

* * * 

Ryan and Sara went to bed together. Shane pled insomnia, kissed each of them, and settled in for a long, boring documentary. He had been looking at Ryan thoughtfully since their impromptu feelings jam, but had otherwise been his usual self. 

Ryan didn’t mind. He liked having one-on-one time with Sara, especially in the delicate, quiet time before sleep. The two of them lay on the big bed, Sara’s head pillowed on Ryan’s chest, her palm right over his heart. She was a steady weight, anchoring him, and in the darkness her warmth was a comfort. There was an uneasiness at the edge of his mind, but he was doing his best to ignore it. This wasn’t the time. 

“Hey, Ry?” Her breath was cool along his jaw as she turned her face up towards his.

“Mm?” He was sleepy and wrung out - maybe having all those feelings at once took it out of a guy or something.

“Why’d you agree to get together with me and Shane in the first place, if you thought we were just gonna leave you?” She sounded genuinely perplexed. His rested his hand on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze, to reassure himself as much as her. 

He wasn’t wearing a shirt; she was wearing a very thin tank top, and one of the straps was slowly falling down her arm. He pushed it back up and then down absently. “Because,” he said, his voice full of sleep, “I wanted to. I like you guys. I figured it’d be worth it, to enjoy myself while I could.”

“Instead of finding someone you could have a kid with and get married to?” There was a familiar anxiety in her voice now, and he was surprised that he could recognize it from the other end.

“I don’t think that’s a thing I’m worried about,” he said gently. “I mean… someday, maybe, but I’ve got a lot of time until then.”

“If you’re sure,” she said. Her hair tickled his chin as she snuggled closer, and then she yawned as wide as Obi. 

“I am,” he said, and yawned back. He was aware in a distant sort of way that she was burrowing into his side with her leg wrapped around his, her hand splayed almost possessively across his chest. 

“I don’t want you going anywhere,” she said, in her creaky sleep voice. “Stay right here. With me. Me and Shane.”

“I will,” he said, and he covered her hand with his, interlacing their fingers carefully.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay, good.” 

* * *

Ryan woke up when Shane fell asleep. That was dumb, wasn’t it? Not when Shane came to bed, but when Shane fell asleep, when his breathing evened out. The quiet of the room had crept into Ryan’s dreams and jerked him awake, and he was still shaking with whatever it was when he sat up. 

Shane was curled towards Ryan, his cheek cushioned on his hand. He snored, his mouth open just a bit, his hair soft and curling around his ears and the covers shoved down around his waist. The red-brown hair of his beard caught the dim light from a streetlight, highlighting the line of his jaw. He made a quiet noise in his sleep, shifting, and Ryan glanced over at Sara. She was sleeping on her stomach with her face buried in her pillow, her hair a flyaway mess around her head. Her silhouette in the darkness reminded him of mountains in the distance, and something in his chest wrenched. He bit his lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise, and his throat got thick. 

The heat of them was too much, all of a sudden. It was too much body heat, too much closeness. If he stayed here he might suffocate. He wriggled out from between the two of them and made his way into the living room. He was faintly aware of how ridiculous he must have looked, padding through their apartment like a burglar in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, snuffling like a pig. Assuming that snuffling noise was him. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really sure of _anything_ right now. 

Ryan sat down on the couch, his head still foggy with sleep and his chest full of… something. What was he feeling? He was usually pretty good at self-assessment, when he needed to be. 

Sara and Shane had said that they weren’t going to get sick of him. That they’d keep him around, that they weren’t planning any big life stuff without keeping him in the loop. But… well, what were the chances of that actually being _true_? What were the chances that they actually meant it? That they’d be willing to buy a house with him, or… have a child, or any of that other big life shit that people did that he’d resigned himself to not getting to do with them. And that was just the surface stuff, stuff that everyone thought about. 

What would happen if one of them lost interest in him, but not the other? Would they lose interest then, too? What if he was always the plus one - their dates as the two of them took priority, or his feelings were always secondary? They’d only done that once or twice and they’d talked about it at the time, but… what if jealousy came up? What about when it stopped being fun, or someone got the stomach flu, or work stress made them cranky? If they lived together, how would they figure out whose names would go on the lease? 

He knew on some level that he was overthinking things and putting the cart before the horse - putting the whole wagon train before the horse - and yet worry was still ricocheting through his head like a superball and leaving him aching and weepy. He knew, intellectually, that he’d be fine. He knew that he was catastrophizing. Yet he couldn’t seem to _stop_. 

Here he was, clutching at himself because he didn’t really _know_ , did he? The uncertainty of not knowing gnawed at his guts like a snake at the roots of a tree, and he realized with some surprise that there was wetness on his face. Those were actual, honest-to-god tears tracking down his cheeks. He licked his lips and tasted salt, and then he was hit with a wracking sob. He needed to be quiet. He couldn’t wake them up. He pressed his hand over his mouth, trying to keep from making any noise at all. He was rocking in place and crying, but _why_ was he crying? They’d reassured him that they weren’t going to abandon him, they’d told him they wanted him in their lives for the foreseeable future. And it was Shane and Sara - he believed them in his bones, except… empirical evidence.

Fuck, Shane was starting to rub off on him if he was thinking about _empirical evidence_. He took a deep, gasping breath, and it broke into a sob, which was… well, more than a little embarrassing. He curled forward to keep from making any more noise. If he was going to have a weird emotional breakdown, he needed to do it quietly. 

“Ryan?” Shane’s voice was sleepy, and when Ryan looked up he saw him standing in the doorway, his hair a disheveled mess as he squinted in the dimness. “What’s up?”

“Just having some feelings,” Ryan said, his voice stuffy from crying. “Don’t worry about it, big guy.”

“It makes me worry when you tell me not to worry,” Shane said, and he yawned, shuffling to sit next to Ryan. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“It’s, like, three in the morning,” said Ryan. “I don’t think it’s a good time to talk about our feelings.” Shane’s knee pressed against Ryan’s, and his bare shoulders glowed in the light seeping in from the window.

Shane shrugged. “It’s Friday night,” he said. “In theory, we could stay up _all night_ talking about feelings and then go back to bed and sleep all of Saturday.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very productive Saturday,” said Ryan. He wanted to lean into Shane’s shoulder, but he probably shouldn’t. If they were going to talk about feelings, they might as well have it like adults.

At three in the morning.

When he’d been crying.

Okay, so it wasn’t much of an adult feelings jam, when it came down to it.

“It’s a Saturday. If I wanted it to be productive, I’d have made it a Tuesday,” said Shane. He slumped back against the couch, eyes half shut, clearly on his way back to sleep. 

“‘Cause you can control time, right?”

“One of my _many_ skills,” Shane said with some assurance.

“You sound like Xena,” Ryan said, drunk on exhaustion and his own feelings.

That, seemed to wake Shane up. “What?”

“That was a thing she used to say,” said Ryan. “She’d do, like, a weird thing where she could embroider and also beat someone to death with a frying pan, and then she’d look all smug and say ‘I have many skills.’” 

“Why am I not surprised that you watched _Xena_?” Shane grinned, and the light caught his teeth.

“I was a kid in the nineties. Who didn’t watch _Xena_?” Ryan leaned back into the couch, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders.

“I dunno,” said Shane. “I kinda liked _Hercules_.” His hand rested on Ryan’s knee, squeezing it. Ryan would have called it possessive if it hadn’t been Shane. Guy didn’t have a possessive bone in his body. 

“Didn’t Kevin Sorbo turn out to be an utter jackass?” Ryan sniffed loudly, making a face. His sinuses felt like they were stuffed with concrete. 

“Well, yes,” said Shane. “But I didn’t know it back then.” 

“Entertainment would be a lot different if we knew then what we know now,” said Ryan, his tone contemplative. “What with… one thing and another.”

“You could say that about a lot of things these days,” said Shane, drowsily. “You, uh… you wanna talk about it?”

“What, how it turns out most of popular culture is full of scumbags?”

“No,” said Shane, but he didn’t say anything else. The quiet of the room filled Ryan’s head until it was louder than screaming. 

“I’m having a lot of feelings,” Ryan said at last. “A lot of them are from… you know, a long time ago. And some of them were coming out of my face.” 

“Yeah, usually you want the come _on_ your face,” said Shane, and he seemed surprised when it startled a laugh out of Ryan. The surprise turned into alarm as Ryan began to cackle and curl over into himself, his hands in his hair, wheezing into his lap. “Dude,” said Shane. 

“Oh my god, Shane,” Ryan panted, some of the tightness in his chest easing. No matter what happened, Shane would still be… well, Shane. 

“Can’t say I blame you,” Shane added. “If I looked as good as you do with come on my face, I’d probably try to make it a fashion statement.” He said it casually, but it still made Ryan’s cock twitch and his heart speed up. 

“I cannot believe you just said that,” Ryan said, tilting his head back to speak directly to the ceiling. 

“Of course you can,” said Shane, and he patted Ryan on the shoulder. “You know me.”

“I do,” said Ryan, and he grinned at Shane in spite of himself. 

“I… I didn’t know you felt like that,” Shane said quietly. 

“That I liked you?” The mood of the room changed, got quieter, more solemn. “I figured you knew, since we’re dating and whatnot.”

“I didn’t know you thought that me and Sara would just… y’know, abandon you,” Shane said. “And… I mean, I didn’t want to scare you off. With big-stuff talk.”

“What kind of big-stuff talk?” Ryan shouldn’t ask Shane this so late at night, or when it was just the two of them - it felt like the kind of talk they should have with Sara, maybe at the kitchen table. _Kitchen table polyamory is the term, right?_

“Like… you maybe moving in here. When your lease is up. Maybe… maybe all three of us moving in together someplace else, at some point.”

“Oh,” said Ryan. He hadn’t expected that. 

“But it’s early days,” said Shane. “I hadn’t given it much thought beyond that. I know you’ve got your lease for a while yet, and I feel like there are steps _before_ you talk about moving in together.”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to choose between me and Sara,” Ryan said quietly. “But I also know… I mean, my previous experience showed me that when it comes to this kind of thing… well, uh… the socially acceptable person is usually the one who gets… chosen.” 

“Oh,” said Shane. “Do you, uh, you wanna talk about it?” He was looking over at Ryan sidelong, his expression hard to read. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Ryan shrugged in a way that he hoped wasn’t too defeatist. “The last time I was with a couple, they didn’t want to do things like hold my hand in public, or take selfies with me, or… well, any of that public relationship stuff. It all kinda came to a head at Thanksgiving, and she was going to introduce her parents to him but not to me.” The years had taken a little of the sting off, but… well. It still hurt. “Since they’d been together for a month when I came into the picture, y’know? But she said since he was, uh… well, her parents would like him more,” he wrinkled his nose, “and I was okay with that.”

Ryan glanced over at Shane and saw that he was looking at him with a “listening” expression - Shane had a good face for listening. 

“But then I started to notice other stuff. Like how I always went along with _their_ schedule, versus them going along with mine. Or how when I needed support they needed to be elsewhere, but I was always there to lend a shoulder. And… well, lots of stuff like that. It kinda came to a head after Thanksgiving, where I lost my temper and said some dumb shit, and they both said equally dumb shit, and we went our separate ways.” Ryan smiled in a way that he hoped wasn’t too bitter. “They, uh, they had a baby recently. She friended me on Facebook.”

“So you’re not on the worst terms?”

“I don’t know, honestly. She makes vague friendship overtures, and it’s not any weirder than some of the people from high school who try to friend me.” He leaned back into the couch, hands behind his head. “I see pictures, occasionally.” God, this was more sincere than he was usually willing to go. He felt vaguely like he might throw up. 

“Wow,” said Shane. “That sounds pretty intense. How long ago was it?”

“About six years,” said Ryan. “It was all very… whirlwind-y.”

“It sounds it,” said Shane. “I’m, uh… I’m flattered you were willing to take the risk with us in the first place.”

Ryan shot him a surprised look. “Well, how could I not?” He was being perfectly candid, but it sounded so… _sappy_ , fuck. “You guys are great.”

“Aw, you’re just saying that,” Shane said, making a dismissive gesture. He looked pleased. 

“And… you were really thinking about me moving in with you?” Ryan’s voice hitched, goddamnit. Whatever happened to dignity? 

“Yeah, eventually,” said Shane, looking at the ceiling. "When we're all ready."

“What about… I mean… well, what about when I stop being fun?” Ryan was poking it now, like at a bruise or a sore tooth. He’d been okay when he’d talked to Sara when they were cuddled up together, but now that he was sitting here on the couch… it seemed like there were a million different obstacles he needed to overcome. 

“I’m not just with you because you’re fun, y’know,” said Shane. “I… I care about you. A lot.” 

“What about, like, if we’re all living together and you and Sara have a date night planned and I had a shitty night and want support? What if I get sick right when you and Sara want to do something fun? What if -”

“We’ll deal with that when it happens. I - and I know Sara too, so we - care about your feelings, but I don’t want to make a million contingency plans for all the zillions of things that might happen," said Shane, interrupting Ryan’s anxious babble. “Okay?”

“I trust you,” Ryan said quietly, and this time he probably meant it. “I just… it’s very loud in my head sometimes.”

“It sounds it,” Shane said sympathetically. “D’you think there’s anything you could do to shut it up? I’d be happy to help - I’m sure Sara would be, too.”

“I mean,” Ryan said, “an orgasm usually shuts my head up for a minute or two.” 

He’d meant it as a joke, but then Shane just… dropped to his knees, his hands running up the insides of Ryan’s thighs. “That’s easy enough,” he told Ryan, grinning.

“W-what? I was joking,” Ryan said, but he rested a hand on top of Shane’s head anyway, because he could. 

“Does that mean you _don’t_ want me to give you a blowjob?” Shane looked up at Ryan through his eyelashes, the very picture of innocence. 

“I mean,” Ryan said, “I wouldn’t say no. If you’re offering.” He was full of feelings and craving catharsis. An orgasm was as good as any, right?

“That’s not the same as saying yes,” Shane countered, his fingertips ticklish on Ryan’s inner thighs. “Do you want me to suck your cock?” 

“I do,” said Ryan, “although I’m beginning to think this is a power trip so you can hear me say ‘I want you to suck my cock’.”

“It’s about me giving you some emotional release instead of bottling it all up,” Shane corrected, and then he looked faintly sheepish. The shadows were stark on his craggy face. “It’s also about it being a power trip because it’s hot to make you say that you want me to suck your cock.”

“You kinky fucker, you,” Ryan said, running his fingers through Shane’s hair. 

“But… I mean it,” said Shane. “About wanting you here, for as long as you’re willing to stay. I can’t really imagine… not wanting you to be here. I mean, apart from the irreconcilable differences that can happen in _any_ relationship. I don’t think that’s polyamory-specific.”

“How romantic,” Ryan said, dryly.

“I’m just being precise,” Shane protested. “I don’t want to tell you that I’m going to be with you until the end of time, but I wouldn’t want to tell _anyone_ that I want to be with them until the end of time. Because you never know if you’re gonna, like, get the urge to move to outer Mongolia or join a monastery or something.” He sighed, his breath warm and ticklish across Ryan’s inner thigh. 

Ryan was struck by a rolling wave of fondness, like sitting on the edge of the ocean during high tide. He sighed as he looked down at Shane, and Shane looked back up at him, squinting without his glasses. “I really care about you. Like, a lot,” he said quietly, and then he blushed because he hadn’t meant to say _that_. It was… well, it was a lot to say. 

“I care about you too,” said Shane, his expression soft and misty in the shadows. “Although I’d also still like to know if you want a blowjob or not, because my knees are going to start to hurt if I stay down here.”

Ryan snickered. “Are you sure you’re up for it, old man?” He cupped the back of Shane’s head, threading his fingers through Shane’s hair. 

“I’m definitely up for sucking your cock,” Shane said, hands sliding up Ryan's thighs into the legs of his boxers. “If you’re up for having it sucked.”

“You want to suck me off after an intense emotional conversation like that?” Ryan ran his fingers through Shane’s hair, making it stand on end. 

Shane shrugged, looking self-conscious. “Yeah,” he said, after a moment of deliberation.

Ryan waited for him to finish the thought, but the quiet stretched out while Shane looked at him expectantly. “Okay,” Ryan said. “You can suck my cock. Go for it.”

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Shane said, tugging down the waistband of Ryan’s boxers to let his cock flop out. 

Ryan sighed, leaning back into the couch and staring down the length of his body at Shane’s face, as Shane kissed the very tip of his cock with a chaste little peck. Well, as chaste as a kiss on the dick could be. _A peck on the pecker_ crossed through Ryan’s mind, and then he snickered and brought a hand up to cover his mouth. 

Shane paused, making eye contact and raising an eyebrow. “Am I amusing you?” His eyes were still sleepy, heavy-lidded and shadowed in the dim living room.

“You always amuse me, big guy,” said Ryan. 

“I aim to please,” said Shane agreeably, and then he enveloped the head of Ryan’s cock in his mouth. 

“I thought… I th-thought I’d be the one… the one doing the _aiming_ , fuck, Shane,” Ryan mumbled, twisting Shane's hair around and around his fingers. He was getting harder in Shane’s mouth, his cock swelling and filling with blood. He was _aware_ of his body - the faint headache at his temples from crying, the cool air against his warm stomach, the slick heat of Shane’s mouth around his cock. 

Shane didn’t have a witty response - he just took Ryan’s cock deeper, his tongue twitching and wriggling along the head, his cheeks hollowing out. He kept eye contact with Ryan and then he winked, the cheeky bastard. Shane leaned forward, taking it all the way down his throat until he gagged. It was a theatrical gag, all sound and fury, but Ryan’s hips stuttered forward anyway.

He was completely hard now, hard and pulsing with the steady thud-thud-thud of his heart. He sighed as Shane pulled back, pressing wet and sloppy kisses, almost like he was trying to give Ryan's cock hickeys. He dragged his tongue along the underside, and Ryan had to stuff his fist in his mouth to keep from swearing. He didn’t want to wake up Sara, although the image of her watching the two of them like this was certainly… appealing. She _did_ like to see them together. 

Shane hummed around Ryan’s cock, the tip of his tongue jabbing against the slit, making Ryan hiss through his teeth and roll his hips forward. He winced when Shane gagged but Shane clung to his hips, his fingers digging into the skin. Shane’s throat squeezed him like a vice and Shane gagged again, but he clung to Ryan’s hips to keep him in place. 

_He wants to fuck his throat with my dick,_ thought Ryan, and he wasn’t sure why that was such a surprise. He’d had partners who did that during vaginal or anal sex, but never oral. There was something intoxicating about it - Shane wanted to make him feel good but Shane was the one deciding how to do it, and Ryan was just going to… take it. He knew that he was strong enough to push Shane away, if he needed to - he’d been known to slow things down if he needed to, in the past. But Shane was making slick, obscene noises with his throat, and his tongue rasped along the vein on the side of Ryan’s cock. 

Ryan still had a headache - from the tears, from the emotional overload. The pressure behind his eyes still seemed to be building, thudding through the cavity of his skull. It was a different throbbing from the one in his cock and it was almost as painful, and he was going to start crying if he wasn’t careful. He was _not_ going to cry as he got a blow job. That was not the kind of guy he was. He was, admittedly, the kind of guy who would leave a nice warm bed to have a panic attack on the couch, but… well, nobody is _completely_ perfect, are they?

Shane was doing that thing he did where he kept up the eye contact and hollowed his cheeks out, and even with the dim lighting the sight of it was enough to make Ryan’s cock twitch. Of course Shane noticed that, so he did the thing _more_ , which made Ryan shudder and pull on Shane’s hair. And Shane got off on having his hair pulled, which made it all that much… well, more, because Shane's moaning vibrated up his shaft. He dug his fingertips into Shane’s scalp, and his heels into the floor. He was almost suspended in a bubble of time as Shane sucked him off, gagging and moaning. It was the kind of obscenity that Ryan associated with porno videos shot in ridiculous McMansions with good lighting, not on Sara and Shane’s IKEA couch at some ungodly hour. 

“You feel so... fuck, _Shane_ ,” Ryan murmured, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling to keep from coming down Shane’s throat. Ryan was hit with an inexplicable urge to blurt out… something. Tell Shane some big secret, some deep wanting of his that he’d never shared with anyone before, because _Shane said he wouldn’t leave_ , and how the fuck was Ryan supposed to trust that? And that was a stupid fucking urge, especially at a time like this. The time for deep confessions was very much _not_ when his dick was halfway down Shane’s throat. Was this some self-defeating bullshit? Was he trying to ruin one of the best things in his life? When it came down to it, Ryan wasn’t even sure what kind of big, illicit secret he had to confess, anyway. He didn’t have many.

Shane pulled off of Ryan’s cock with a “pop” that Ryan wanted to save forever and possibly use for future masturbation, the spit on his lower lip shining in the low light. His eyes were very wide, and his breath was very hot across the head of Ryan’s cock. “You feeling good, Ry?” Shane’s hands kneaded Ryan’s inner thighs, almost like a contented cat.

“So fuckin’ good,” Ryan slurred. “So.. so good.” 

“Do you wanna come?” Shane’s tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of intensity. “How do you want to come, Ryan?”

“I… I want to come,” Ryan said, and it was taking every ounce of self control he had not to use his grip on Shane’s hair to shove his dick back down Shane’s throat. 

“I know,” Shane said, and his fingers circled around the base of Ryan’s cock, squeezing it. It was staving off Ryan’s orgasm, keeping him just on the edge. “But _how_ do you want to come?”

_From your mouth,_ was what Ryan should have said, or maybe _on your face_ or something similar. What he said was “however you want me to,” and he wasn’t sure why he was so embarrassed by it. 

“What if I _don’t_ want you to?” Shane’s expression was rapt, his eyes darting between Ryan’s cock and his face.

“I… I hope you want me to,” Ryan said, and his voice cracked. “I hope it very much.”

Shane made an amused noise. “How badly do you want to come, Ry?” He took Ryan’s length in his fist and squeezed, stroking him from root to tip. His hand was very hot, sweaty and slick with his spit and Ryan’s pre-come. 

“I want it so badly,” Ryan said. “I’m so close, and your mouth just feels so _good_. I’m going to come… if you keep doing that, I’m… mmm….” He wanted to come. But he also… he also wanted something else. Some part of him wanted Shane to tell him “no,” to send him back to sleep with aching balls, heat still coiled in the base of his belly. Some part of him wanted to stay teetering on this precipice for the rest of his life, with the image of Shane’s face burned into his mind. He wanted to keep this reminder that Shane cared about him, that Shane wanted him like this, for as long as he could. “I… I want whatever you want,” Ryan said, and he didn’t mean to say out loud but Shane’s eyes got wider when he heard it, his expression going almost _desperate_ for a second. 

“Good answer,” said Shane, and his mouth was back on Ryan’s cock before Ryan had a chance to react. He sucked Ryan down with enough suction that it was almost painful, his tongue doing creative, filthy things that left Ryan’s whole body limp. His orgasm hit him in the back of the head like a brick and the pleasure rushed down his spine to break in his belly, wave after wave of it washing over him. The pressure in his head got stronger and then it abated so suddenly it made him dizzy, and that was almost as wonderful as the orgasm. His cock spat come into Shane’s waiting mouth and then he surged forward to slam his mouth on Ryan’s. 

Ryan tasted his come on Shane’s tongue and moaned into the kiss. It was a good kiss, sweet and nasty, laying him bare. When they parted there was a little dribble of come on the corner of Ryan’s mouth, and he licked it. The bitter-salt of it made his nose wrinkle, but he couldn’t deny that the hungry look on Shane’s face was _utterly_ worth it. 

“You look completely debauched right now,” Shane informed Ryan, cupping his cheek and resting his thumb on Ryan’s lower lip. “You’d think that you were the one gagging on cock, not me.” His voice had a touch of rasp, and it was enough to make Ryan shiver. He loved reminders that he’d had an effect on his lovers - hickeys and bruises, raspy voices and swollen lips. 

Ryan flushed and flicked his tongue against the very tip of Shane’s thumb, tasting sweat and salt. “I can, uh… I can do that, if you’d like,” he said. It wasn’t the most seductive come-on, true, but who would be at their best postcoital, his eyes no doubt red from crying. 

“As much as I’d love a refresher on what a good cocksucker you are,” Shane said, making Ryan blush further at the compliment, “we should go back to sleep. Sara has probably colonized the whole bed at this point.” 

“There’s not enough of her to colonize the _whole_ bed,” Ryan said, and he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. His chest felt lighter, and the anxiety that had been boiling was… if not gone, a lot quieter. “Anyway, would it even count as colonizing, since it’s her bed?”

“You’d think not,” said Shane. “And yet. Okay. Maybe not colonizing. Encroaching on our territory?” He stood up, and his knees popped like champagne corks.

“That can’t be healthy,” Ryan said, motioning towards Shane’s knees as he stood up, his own body weirdly stiff from curling in on himself. He pulled his boxers up, settling them around his hips, and glanced surreptitiously down at Shane’s crotch. There was indeed a tent in his grey sweatpants. Maybe Shane was saving his boner for the morning, when they could do something truly debauched in full daylight. 

What hedonists they were.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna apologize for all of the gratuitous movie references here, but I feel like I should.

Ryan woke up that morning to Sara kissing along his neck. As far as ways to wake up went, it was definitely up there as a favorite. She was draped across him, one of her legs thrown over his, her breath warm along his jaw.

"I know you're awake," Sara said, right in his ear, and he shuddered and licked his lips. 

Ryan's eyes blinked open and he looked into hers, grinning. "Hi," he said. 

"Hi," she said. "You okay? I woke up in the night and you weren't here." 

"Oh, yeah," said Ryan. "Had, uh... had some feelings, needed to process them a bit on my own, then Shane joined me. Ended up sitting on the couch at way too early talking about… stuff. Then some other stuff - sexy stuff - happened." He tucked a piece of curly hair behind her ear, and it popped back out almost immediately.

"You wanna talk about it?" Her fingers traced the line of his profile from between his eyebrows to his chin. “The feelings talk, not the sexy stuff. I assume you’ll tell me about the sexy stuff at some point.” He kissed her fingertip when it passed over his lips, and she smiled at him.

"Later?" The light framed her like a Renaissance painting. He noticed, belatedly, that there was a vacant warm spot on the bed next to him. “Where’s Shane?”

"Feeding Obi," said Sara, "and probably making coffee." 

"Coffee is good," Ryan said. "I like coffee." He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb gentle on her cheekbone, his middle finger against the shell of her ear. 

"Michael is good, I like Michael," Sara said, and she giggled as she leaned down to kiss him. 

Ryan pulled back, frowning. "What?"

It was Sara's turn to frown. " _The Lost Boys_. Y'know, the scene where Star meets Michael, right after the bit with the oiled-up saxophone player?" She sat up, and Ryan noticed that one of her breasts was half falling out of her tank top. Her nipple was very pink and pebbling up in the cooler air outside the covers. 

"I don't think I've seen it," Ryan said, one hand thumbing her nipple, then pinching it just enough to make her hiss through her teeth. 

She shoved his hand away, her eyebrows drawn together in a deeper frown. "I don't know if you're allowed boob privileges if you haven't even seen _The Lost Boys_. I had my bisexual awakening to that movie, y'know."

"We can schedule it for our next movie night," Ryan said. "I'll even take notes. Although I think it’s a bit late for my bisexual awakening." He moved to run his hand along her back, sliding it up the back of her tank top. 

"Well," she said, sitting up a bit more and pulling away from him to yank the tank top up and off, "if note-taking is promised, I suppose I'll let it go. Just this once."

Ryan ogled. He didn't even hide his ogling, because he was still captivated by her even after all these months. He lay back for a moment, just watching as she stretched, pushing her breasts forward and arching her back. 

"You're very gorgeous," he said. He hadn't meant it as any kind of flattery or... well, anything like that. He just had to tell her. 

She flushed all the way to her temples and gave an awkward little shimmy. "Y'like what you see?"

"I just told you that you're gorgeous," said Ryan, "of course I like what I see." He leaned forward to nuzzle at her belly, then kissed up further to mouth at the underside of her breast. 

She sighed, threading her hands through his hair, pulling his mouth closer to hers. "I need multiple levels of reinforcement, okay?" Her voice went high-pitched as he fastened on to her nipple, flickering the tip of his tongue against it. 

Ryan swirled the flat of his tongue over her whole nipple and then pulled off with a pop, nipping at the side of her breast. He looked up at her through his eyelashes, and he could almost _feel_ her eyes sweeping across him, from the curve of his jaw to the arch of his eyebrows to the redness of his lips. He made a big show of licking his lips, and her thighs tensed up. She wanted him. She didn't just tolerate him, she didn't just think of him as something to pass the time, she actually _wanted_ him. If he reached between her legs she'd be wet for him, and even if she wasn't, she'd get there pretty soon once he got his hand or mouth on her. 

"What?" She looked down at him and he realized that he'd been staring at her, no doubt wearing a goofy expression. 

Ryan cleared his throat and grinned at her self consciously, twisting her nipple between two fingers. She gasped, her eyes sliding shut and her mouth falling open. "You're just really hot," he told her. "Really hot. Excellently hot. A-plus hotness."

"A-plus hotness," Sara echoed. She giggled, and it turned into a moan when he kissed along her other breast, nibbling on the side of it and then kissing his way towards her nipple. She shuddered and then she straddled him, her weight on his stomach and her breasts in his face. 

“Totally. Perfect score. Dean’s list.” Her knees dug into his sides, and he used both hands to press her breasts together, licking each nipple in turn and then both at once. She grinded against him, probably not getting much in the way of stimulation but moaning anyway, her fingers still in his hair. 

“Dean’s list?” Her voice cracked as he sucked harder. “What dean?” 

Ryan pulled off and kissed her nipple, which was darker now and getting harder from the contrast of his hot mouth and the cooler air. “I’m not making the most sense, what with the hotness that is you sitting on me.” 

“I could get off of you, if it’d make it easier for you to think?” Sara’s tone was solicitous, and her thighs squeezed him as if she was about to stand up.

He put his hands on her thighs and held on. “Please don’t?” His tone was surprisingly plaintive. 

“See, I was expecting you to make a joke about how you’d rather I got off on you, or something like that,” said Sara. She sighed, leaning into his hands as he ran them down her back, following after the trails of goosebumps rolling across her skin. 

“I’m not on my A-game right now,” said Ryan. “But I don’t want to be anywhere else. I’ll happily play handicapped, if I get to keep playing with _you_.” Did that make any sense? Did he care?

She snorted and ran her fingers through his hair, her expression fond. “You’re such a dork,” she told him.

“I do my best,” said Ryan, blushing. Arousal thrummed through his body, but it was a lazy sort - there wasn’t any of the usual driving need pushing him forward. It was a bit like last night, actually. He could have happily stayed on this plateau, heat building in his gut, his skin getting steadily more sensitive. He wanted to stay here - he didn’t want to come, he didn’t want to let go of any of the anticipation. He just wanted to be _here_ , in bed with Sara, both of them warm and smelling like sleep.

“Your best is pretty good,” she said, still squirming, rocking her hips forward and trying to get more friction against his stomach.

“Y’know,” Ryan said, “I think you’d get more outta that if you were doing it on my face.” 

Sara snickered. “That was smooth,” she told him. “Unlike your face,” she added, wrinkling her nose at the rasp of his stubble against her fingers. 

“I’ll kiss it better, if you get rubbed all raw,” he said, his tone earnest.

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, but she smiled.

“Yep,” he agreed. “So do you wanna?” He stuck his tongue out in what he hoped was an alluring manner and she snickered at him, getting up on her knees and wriggling out of her pajama shorts. 

There was an awkward moment where she nearly kicked him in the face, but then she shuffled further up, smearing wetness along his chest. It was sticky and wet, and he could smell the salty muskiness of her arousal. He put his hands on her ass to pull her closer, so her knees were on the bed by his head and her pussy was right up against his mouth. He licked between her labia and she moaned, her hands on his head, pressing his face into herself. He'd always loved this - the greedy selfishness of hands in his hair, the roll of hips against his face, the wet drag of labia against his lips and cheeks. That it was Sara made it so much _better_. He flattened his tongue so she could grind against it, her thighs already going rigid. She started to shake, her breath coming in gusty pants. She was so _soft_ against his tongue, her pubic hair pasted down with slick and his spit, her clit firm and pulsing in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Sara said, her voice high and tight, “your mouth… Ryan, I want your mouth. Forever. Don’t… stop, don’t you fucking dare stop.” She hunched forward, her spine curling. Her pussy almost covered his nose, so he tilted his head back to get some air and then pressed forward again, sucking on her clit and then moving his mouth lower to fuck her with his tongue. Her thighs squeezed him tighter, almost enough to make him light-headed, and she full-on _rode_ his face, smearing him with wetness, her hands tight and desperate in his hair. 

If he’d been able to bring his hands into play, he would have fingered her. He loved the way she felt when she was this close, clenching around him, her whole body primed like a spring about to go off. She shook, and he was getting dizzy from how tightly she held on. He relaxed his jaw and lapped at her clit, then sucked on it using that specific, alternating pressure that always made her go wild. She sobbed and then went utterly rigid as her cunt spasmed against his mouth. He kept up the pressure, gentling it just enough so she didn’t pull anything, and then she wrenched away from him and flopped back to rest most of her weight on his belly. 

Ryan grunted, making a face. She was putting a bit too much weight on his stomach for it to be comfortable. He liked it, though - he liked how solid she was, the way she pinned him to the bed. The light was almost too bright after the humid dimness of her belly and thighs, and he squinted. He was aware of his cock throbbing at him, pre-come soaking into his boxers. They were slimy by now, sticking to his skin, and he wanted to get out of them. But that would mean disturbing Sara, and he was loath to do so. He jerked out of his thoughts at the sensation of her fingers sliding up the leg of his boxers, delicate against the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. 

“You really liked that, huh?” Sara shifted so that she was sitting on the bed, her legs draped over Ryan’s lower body but no longer resting all of her weight on his stomach. He took a deep breath, and the rush of air to his head made him dizzy. Or maybe it was the arousal? All he could smell was her pussy, the salt of her still sharp on his tongue, her slick drying on his skin like a fancy face mask.

“How could I not?” He propped himself up on his elbows to meet her eyes and found her grinning at him, her face pink and her hair damp with sweat, a few strands sticking to her face. “You know I love eating the peach.”

Sara groaned and sat up fully, shoving the waistband of his boxers down. His cock sprang forward, pointing up towards his chin, and she took him in hand, squeezing. “I ought to sit on your face again,” she told him, “just to keep you from ever saying ‘eating the peach’ again.”

Ryan snickered. “It’s an apt description,” he pointed out. “It’s fuzzy, it’s juicy, it -” He stopped mid-sentence as she straddled him again, one hand holding on to his cock and the other spreading her labia. Then he went utterly still as she slid down onto him, her cunt squeezing him tight, pulsing. “You’re really wet,” he said, and his voice was very quiet.

“You just made me come,” she pointed out, giving a little roll of her hips. “I should hope so.” She leaned forward, her breasts against his chest, and he put his hands on her hips in an attempt at keeping his cock from slipping out of her. Her knees pressed into the bed on either side of his hips, and her slick dripped down his shaft, puddling in his pubic hair and soaking into his boxers where they were around his balls. 

“Right,” Ryan said, not really paying attention to what he was saying and just holding on to her hips, rolling his hips forward and fucking up into her. She was like silk inside, and his cock _glided_ in and out of her. She ground her hips forward to press her clit against the base of his cock, and her sweat mixed with his. It was all so _hot_ \- her breath steaming against his neck, her body radiating heat, her cunt a molten vice around his length. Everywhere they touched, his nerves seemed to sing.

He was struck with the same urge he’d had last night with Shane - to blurt out some deep, terrible secret, to see if she _really_ wanted to keep him around, to prove that she wasn’t going to leave him. That wasn’t fair to her, wasn’t fair to him, wasn’t fair in general. Why did he have to be that kind of guy? He pressed his face into the top of her head and then groaned as she wriggled, fluttering around his cock. 

“You know, I was going to be all romantic and bring you guys breakfast in bed,” said Shane from the doorway; Ryan could just make out his face over Sara’s shoulder. He seemed to be holding at least two plates heaped up with something fluffy. 

Ryan froze and then cringed, ashamed of having frozen. It wasn’t that he expected to be yelled at, or anything like that. But some small part of him still felt vaguely… wrong, fucking around with one of them when the other wasn't initially involved. _Even though_ they’d all talked and had agreed it was okay. Even though this wasn’t an infidelity thing, and it wasn’t as if he got jealous when he walked in on the two of them fucking around. 

And yet.

Sara sat up on, Ryan still inside of her, and looked over her shoulder at Shane. Her position was like something from an obscene, cheesecake sort of poster, and it struck Ryan as one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen. As far gone as he was, almost _anything_ she did would be erotic. “We can still have breakfast in bed, y’know,” she told Shane.

“I feel like eating scrambled eggs at a time like this would get messy,” Shane said dryly, and then he was out the door again. “They’re gonna get cold,” he called after himself as he made his way down the small hallway that separated their bedroom from the rest of the apartment.

Ryan paused, torn. Did he want to pause their activities to go eat scrambled eggs? Shane made very good scrambled eggs. On the other hand he would hate to move right now, with his cock deep in Sara, all hot and cozy. She tensed around him and his cock twitched, pleasure pooling in his gut.

Then Shane was back, pulling his shirt off as he strode into the room like he was conquering it, climbing onto the bed and settling between Ryan’s spread legs. He pressed himself against Sara’s back, running his hands up and down her sides, mouthing her neck. 

“What about the eggs?” Ryan’s cock twitched inside of Sara, watching as Shane’s fingers pinched and pulled her nipples, watching the way Sara’s face opened like a morning glory in the sun. 

“I can live with cold eggs,” Shane said. “You’re already raring to go, after last night?” One of his hands moved between Sara’s legs, his thumb against her clit, his ring and pinky finger against the top of Ryan’s cock.

Ryan shuddered - it was a bare, ticklish touch, but paired with Sara’s squeezing cunt it was almost too much. He moaned, thrusting up into her, and Sara shuddered, her breasts bouncing and her head resting on Shane’s shoulder.

“W-what happened last night?” Sara began to shake as Shane rubbed her clit with the pad of his thumb. She twitched around Ryan, making it very hard for him to hold on to his control. He wanted to flip her over and fuck her, but… he also wanted to stay here, on his back, looking up at her. He wanted to be under her, at her mercy. He wasn’t going to come any time soon; his orgasm the night before had left him with some staying power. But everything was well on its way to overwhelming.

“Shane gave me a blow job,” said Ryan. 

“Can _I_ get some late-night head the next time I'm having feelings?” Sara’s voice stuttered along with her hips. Shane was still rubbing her clit, and Ryan reached out to pinch her nipple. 

“Certainly,” Shane said, nipping the tendon on her neck. “Just come find me, I’ll rock your world.’

“You already rock my world,” Sara said, and she sighed, going boneless as Ryan’s fingers tweaked and plucked her nipples. “Both of you.”

Ryan wished he could suck on them, but not from this angle. “I’m sure it can always be more rocked,” he said. 

“You know what would really do it?” She rolled her hips and Ryan moaned, his head thrown back as he just… took it all in. 

“What would rock your world, Sara?” Shane’s free hand moved lower to toy with Ryan’s balls, tracing along the seam in the middle, the waistband of Ryan’s boxers pressing against his wrist. 

“If both of you were inside me right now,” she said. 

“You want me in your ass?” Shane sounded faintly surprised, and Ryan couldn’t blame him. Sara wasn’t usually one for receiving anal sex. 

“No,” said Sara. “I was thinking… both of you in my pussy. If that’d be okay.”

Shane paused, his expression thoughtful. “Is that, like… a thing people do? Without cameras?”

“It’s a thing people do,” Sara confirmed. “You in, Ry?” She made eye contact with him, her eyes dark. 

“Not yet,” Ryan said absently, because he could. Then he bit his lip, trying to gather his thoughts. “If you think it’s a thing we can do,” he said when he could get the words out. “Just, uh… let’s be careful.”

“Of course,” said Sara, and she gave another little hip wiggle, which made Ryan’s hips buck. “This might take some maneuvering.”

“Just tell me where you want me, and I’m all yours,” said Shane. “ _We’re_ all yours.”

“I never thought you were anything else,” Sara said, and something about her tone made Ryan’s stomach clench, a wave of heat washing over him like a solar flare. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again he found the both of them looking at him with quizzical expressions.

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “You’re both so fucking hot. I’m not gonna be able to hold off much longer if you keep this up.”

“I guess we’d better get with the stuffing then,” Shane said, and it was the same cheerful “let’s get to work!” tone he used when they were on a shoot.

Ryan groaned, although he wasn’t sure if he was reacting to the tone or the words.

“I can’t _believe_ you just said that,” Sara groused.

“Yes, you can,” Shane said cheerfully. “Now. Where do you want me?”

“Well….”

* * *

Ryan ended up not moving: he stayed flat on his back, his hands on Sara’s hips. She ended up more or less flat on top of him, her face in his collarbone. Shane was behind her, one of his hands covering Ryan’s on her hip. 

“You look so open like this,” Shane said, his voice thick. “Are you sure I’ll be able to fit?” 

“Try a finger first,” Sara said. 

Ryan shivered at the sensation of Shane’s long, narrow finger sliding into her to rest alongside his cock. Shane stroked him, gently, and then there was another finger, still probing delicately

“It’s going to fit,” Sara said, her voice rough. “I can tell, just… just go slow.”

“Are you sure?” Shane sounded nervous, but there were various rustling noises, presumably as he pushed his sweatpants down. “It’s a bit of a tight fit.”

“But it still fits,” Sara said. 

Ryan didn’t really have anything to say. He stayed put and let himself just… feel it all. Sara’s heart raced against his chest, and her hair was itchy on his chin. He was mostly all the way inside her, but he was aware that she was still open. And then there was the heat and solidity of Shane’s cock, the tip wet. It pressed up against Ryan’s, and Sara got tighter.

Ryan opened his eyes and stared up at both of them; Shane was draped over Sara’s back, his hands around her waist, his eyes glazed and his mouth open as the head of his cock rubbed across her entrance along Ryan’s cock. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, her cheeks bright red, a deep line forming in her forehead. He wanted to reach up and smooth it out, but this… was very much not the time for that. If he moved he might come, or dislodge himself, or make things more complicated for Shane, or… something.

“Oh,” Sara said thickly as Shane’s cock slid in alongside Ryan’s, inch by inch. “You feel very much like this.”

Ryan was stock still. Shane’s cock was _solid_ , and it was hot. He’d had it against his before, but they’d never been pressed together this tightly. It was so hot, so tight - he could probably draw a topographical map of the walls of Sara’s pussy on one side, the sensation of Shane’s cock on the other. It was a tight, tight fit, but it also scratched some itch he hadn’t known had been nibbling at him. The angle was awkward and he was still afraid he’d slip out, except then Sara would clench or squirm around him and then he’d go stiff, getting that much closer.

"This isn't a thing I ever imagined, I must... I must admit," Shane said, and his voice cracked. His cock throbbed against Ryan's, and Ryan could _feel_ it. Shane rolled his hips and his cock moved minutely, rubbing against Ryan's. 

Sara moaned and sank her teeth in Ryan's shoulder. It stung, but it was happening elsewhere. Ryan was more aware of Shane's shallow thrusting, more aware of Sara's pussy getting tighter around him. Some of his cock was out of her now, and she ground against both of them awkwardly, more or less stuck but still trying to get more stimulation. Ryan looked down his own body, over her shoulder, and made eye contact with Shane.

Shane grinned at him, and then his eyes slid closed as Sara did something particularly devious with her interior muscles. His head tipped forward, his forehead against her shoulder, and Ryan watched as his shoulder blades almost met as he pushed forward. Shane trembled, and Ryan reached a hand out to cup Shane's cheek, his thumb against the hinge of his jaw and his index finger resting on Shane's lower lip.

Ryan made a surprised noise when Shane's mouth enveloped his finger, and he bit his lip as his cock flexed inside of Sara, against Shane. Sara made her own startled noise, her hips twitching forward, and Shane groaned around the finger in his mouth. Ryan's other hand was on Sara's hip, holding on - probably hard enough to bruise her, which he'd have to apologize for later. 

Very later.

It was hard to imagine any time outside this one, with Sara's heart hammering against his chest and Shane's sleepy eyes looking into his. "You're so hard," Shane said, and Sara shuddered against him, her teeth digging into Ryan's shoulder.

Shane's hand moved down, and then his knuckles pressed against Ryan's belly. They were shifting - he must be rubbing Sara's clit, because she twitched around the two of them. Shane thrust a little faster. 

"It's a lot," Sara said, and her voice buzzed against Ryan's skin, leaving his toes curling against the sheets, against Shane's calves. She sat up a bit and Ryan gasped as it pushed him deeper into her, and Shane rubbed against him, and then Shane's cock went deeper. . 

"It sure is," Ryan agreed in a choked-off voice. "A lot, I mean."

"This may be the most... awkward I've ever seen you be," said Shane. His voice was garbled around Ryan’s fingers. He gave another little roll of his hips, jostling Ryan's cock and pressing down on things inside of Sara that made her gasp and whine. His thumb still worked over Sara's clit, and she tightened around the two of them, her thighs going stiff and her teeth still in Ryan's shoulder. 

He was going to have one hell of a bruise.

"You're not exactly mister dignity yourself, y'know," Ryan said thickly, giving a little shift of his own hips and nearly unseating himself from Sara before she clenched around him firmly, her knees digging into his sides. 

"Stop bickering," Sara said thickly. "I'm... so close. I'm so... oh, fuck, Shane, do that... _fuck_."

"Yes, ma'am," said Shane, his thumb still moving over her clit. She tightened, and she pulsed around him to match the off-tempo throbbing of Shane's cock, the thundering of Ryan's own heartbeat. The pressure built in his belly, in his chest, and he was struck with that same urge all over again.

_Tell them that you're not worth any of this_ , he thought. _You don't love me, you love the idea of me._ And that was a tall order in and of itself, wasn't it? Assuming that they loved him. But did they love him? Or were they not up to that point yet?

He loved them. 

Fuck, he did, didn't he?

He actually loved them, and he was feeling it _as he was doing this_ , while they were doing something out of a porno, and Sara chose that exact moment to look up at him, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink. He wanted to blurt it out, which would ruin the moment, but the need was perverse - like wanting to jump off of a high building, or stick his hand down a garbage disposal. It wasn't a rational thought, but it was so tempting to just blurt it out and see it all crumble. 

Sara kissed him, awkwardly, her head at an even more awkward angle than before, and then her tongue was in his mouth as her cunt squeezed him tight, fluttering. She sobbed against him as she came, and Shane gasped. He bit into Ryan’s finger and his cock swelled up, throbbing harder against Ryan’s, and then there was a wash of heat and wetness dripping out of Sara and down Ryan’s balls. Shane’s face went tight and ugly, and it was enough to make Ryan’s heart surge in his chest.

“Fuck,” Shane said with his broken voice, and he pulled away and out, flopping onto the bed next to Ryan. “Holy fuck.” 

Ryan blinked. He was still inside of Sara, and she was shaking against him. “Do you want me to pull out?” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smelling her shampoo as a few stray curls tickled his nose. 

“I want you to roll me over and come in me,” Sara said, clear as a bell. “How does that sound to you, Ry?”

“I could, uh… I could do that,” Ryan said, and he barely heard himself over his own beating heart. “If that’s what you want?”

“I wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t want it, duh,” she said, and she squirmed on top of him. Her pussy was still pulsing and slick with her arousal, with Shane’s come.

“I just worry you’re, y’know, sensitive,” said Ryan, but he grabbed her by the hips and rolled them over so that he was crouching between her legs, his cock pulled out between her labia, leaving a sticky trail of wetness along her vulva. 

Instead of some snarky, witty comeback, she looked up at him and her face was open and tender. “Please?”

A lump grew in his throat, and he licked his lips - they were still faintly salty with her come from earlier. “Okay,” he said, and made a startled noise when one of Shane’s big hands wrapped around his cock, giving it a squeeze. 

“Thought I might help out a bit,” Shane said, and his eyes were bright and sleepy, his lips swollen from when he’d been biting them.

“Thanks,” Ryan said thickly, as Shane’s fingers guided him into Sara’s pussy. He pushed his hips forward and she gasped, her thighs gaping open and her heels digging into his calves. Her nails were sharp against his back, and her pussy grasped him desperately, pulsing like a star. 

“God, Ryan,” Sara said, “I want… I want to feel you come in me. Please. Don’t go easy on me?” 

He awkwardly grabbed her ankles to get a deeper angle, and leaned further forward until they were forehead to forehead, his cock buried inside of her. Then he pulled almost all the way out, and pushed back in. She clenched around him as if she wanted him to stay in, and he would hate to leave the wet, hot tightness of her. Shane’s fingers intertwined with Ryan’s on her ankle, and the lump in Ryan’s throat got bigger. 

_I love you,_ he traced against her ankle, spelling it out letter by letter, in time with his thrusts. _I love you,_ he mouthed against her mouth when she pulled him down by the hair to kiss him, tasting her own come on his face. _I love you,_ he traced against Shane’s knuckles, as his orgasm loomed over him like a piano on a very thin rope. They couldn’t tell he was saying it - that idea too fucking terrifying. But doing _this_ was safe. It was almost like letting go and free falling. But not quite. 

Shane let go of Ryan’s hand and he moved his own hand to bury it in the hair at the back of Ryan’s head to force Ryan forward until he was kissing Shane. Sara’s small hands moved from his shoulders to join Shane's in his hair, guiding his head. _They’re just putting my face where they want it,_ passed through his head, and _they could do whatever to me and I’d be okay with it_.

Ryan came, the pressure in his gut abruptly snapping like a rubber band. The muscles in his stomach tensed, then spasmed, his cock throbbing and shooting come into her heat. His knees went weak as the pleasure dropped down onto his head, leaving him boneless and flopping forward with his face in her neck, his cock pulling out of her to drool more come onto the sheets.

Ye gods, they were gonna need to do so much laundry.

“So,” Shane said as Ryan caught his breath and tried to find a way to keep his feelings from escaping like a cat through an open door, “I hate to say it, but I think the eggs are cold.” 

Sara cackled, curling forward to put her hands over her face, and Ryan made a vague noise where his face was still pressed into her side.

“We can’t really reheat them, either,” Shane said, and he sounded genuinely remorseful even as he pushed Ryan’s hair back. “Reheated eggs are never as good as fresh ones.”

Sara poked Shane in the ribs, and he made an indignant noise as he poked her back. “You’ve got weird priorities,” she told Shane.

“Protein is important,” Ryan said, and yawned, kissing the side of her breast because he could.

“You’re such a meathead,” Sara said, her fingers tracing down his spine. Her fingers slipped in his sweat. 

“Mhm,” Ryan said, not really paying attention. He sighed as Shane’s hand rested on his hip, and he let his eyes slide closed. Shane pressed closer, his bony hip against Ryan’s, and Sara’s heart beat under Ryan’s cheek. He was sated, comfortable. He’d have to get up and pee in a few minutes, but at this moment, with the sunlight filtering in like honey… it was about as close to perfect as anything in life could be. 

* * *

They showered and ate the (cold) eggs.

It wasn’t until Ryan was sitting at the kitchen table, staring into his orange juice, that he noticed Shane squinting at his phone. 

“What’s up?”

Sara had Obi in her lap, and she was scratching his ears and trying to keep him from sticking his whole face into her coffee. 

“Doing some math,” said Shane.

“What kind of math are you doing at this time of day?” Ryan took a slug of orange juice and made a face. Sara and Shane preferred the kind with pulp, the heathens.

“It’s not exactly early in the morning,” Shane said, wrinkling his nose and looking through his glasses at his phone, then pressing the “call” button. ”Time zone math.” 

“Who are you calling?” Ryan took another sip, wrinkling his nose again. 

“My mom,” Shane said, and then he was speaking into his phone. “Hi, Mom!”

Ryan glanced at Sara, who had raised an eyebrow but was still petting the cat. He let the sound of Shane chatting with his mom wash over him, still in the lazy afterglow that came with a good Saturday morning. It wasn’t until he heard his own name that he paid attention.

“Yeah, you remember Ryan? The guy I do my show with. You’ve met him, briefly.” Shane smiled easily, his eyes crinkling up around the edges. “Yeah. So, we’re dating.”

Ryan spilled his orange juice. 

It wasn’t on purpose, but the juice sloshed into his lap, the cat, and Sara. There were muffled yelps, and Ryan stood up to grab paper towels to mop it up. He was trying not to gape at Shane, who was still just… talking. 

“No, I’m still with Sara. She’s dating him too. Yeah. it’s kind of a California thing.” Shane leaned over while groping around one-handed and shoved a dish rag at Ryan, who used it to wipe at the mess on his lap. “He’s a good guy, yeah. We make each other very happy.” He bit his lip. For all that his tone was casual, there was tension in his jaw. “I’m calling to tell you guys that I want to bring both of them to Thanksgiving, and to ask you to set an extra seat at the table.” More talking on the phone, then, “sure, you can talk to him.” 

Shane slipped his phone into Ryan’s (sticky) hand, and Ryan shook his head frantically, mouthing “ _what?!_ ” but it was too late. He put the phone to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Ryan!” said Shane’s mother, from the other end of the line. She sounded faintly frazzled. “We met at the party, remember?”

“Right,” said Ryan. _God, this is awkward_. “I, uh… I remember. You wore a blue dress.”

Sara rolled her eyes, but she also looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Right,” Shane's mom said. There was an awkward silence, then, “how long have you guys been together?”

“Uh… me and Shane? Right. Me and Shane. We’ve, uh, we’ve been together for… about three, four months.”

“And you and Sara?” 

“About the same,” Ryan said. “She’s right here, let me put her on for you.” 

Sara was making the universal “don’t give it to me” hand motion (the two handed “stop” motion, shaking her head rapidly), but it was too late. She took the phone, made a face at Ryan, and then chatted along for a few minutes. At least it wasn’t too much trouble - she had more experience with talking to Shane’s mother, at least. 

Ryan mopped up the orange juice, and then the phone was returned to Shane. “Yeah,” Shane said, “it’s kind of early, but I figured I’d give you some time to plan, y’know? I know you appreciate knowing things in advance. It can cut down on some of the, uh… surprise.” Shane was smiling, slightly wan. “Yes - I love you too, Mom. Can’t wait to see you in a few months.” 

And then he hung up.

There was a beat of silence.

“So,” Ryan said, “what are we going to tell _my_ mother?” 

“We’ll figure something out.” 

* * *

Ryan went home on Sunday pleasantly sore, his head full of who knew what. He was having a lot of feelings, and he didn’t know what to do with them. He made himself some dinner, flopped out on his couch, and then put on a movie and ruminated. 

(He didn't literally chew cud, thankfully, although it felt a little similar.)

So he loved them. Actually loved them. For real loved them. And they apparently wanted him to move in with them, which implied they loved him back. Unless he was reading it wrong? What if Shane's mother forgot about it? Thanksgiving was months away, what -

Ryan groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Shut up,” he told his inner monologue. “You're being obnoxious.”

It didn't respond, thankfully.


	3. Chapter 3

Shane kissed Ryan in the parking garage on Wednesday morning. It wasn't a particularly salacious kiss - he bent down and pressed his lips against Ryan's as they made their way towards the front door. It was the kind of kiss they'd shared who knew how many times; the kind of peck you would use to wake a princess in a Disney film. It was in full view of… well, everyone, although nobody was around to see them, thankfully. Ryan still pulled back, glancing around furtively. 

“Sorry,” Shane said, looking sheepish. “I know we didn’t talk about it, but I figured you’d be okay with being more… open about that type of thing.” He took a step back and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while, honestly.”

“What, kiss me?” They were walking towards the big glass doors again. “We do that all the time.”

“Kiss you at work,” said Shane. “Or… near work, I guess. We’re not technically _at_ work yet. I’d have done it earlier this week, but we kept missing each other.” 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You… you give off a bit of an aura of being less than into the whole….” Shane made a vague hand motion as the two of them walked through the big, echoing lobby. 

“Whole?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. Was this going to turn into another one of those “you don’t _look_ bisexual” conversations that he kept having with people? 

“The whole PDA thing,” Shane said at last, as they made their way towards the elevator. “And I sensed some, uh… reluctance from you about it.”

“Oh,” said Ryan. He hadn’t realized he’d been projecting any kind of hesitance, honestly. Mostly because he figured that Sara and Shane weren’t really interested in being seen with him like that. Speaking of. “Where’s Sara?”

“She woke up feeling horrible and decided to work from home so she wouldn’t spread it to anyone at the office.” Shane pressed the elevator button. 

“Oh geez,” said Ryan, making a face as the elevator doors closed with a _ding_. “What kind of horrible?” 

“Bad cold,” said Shane. “Although now that I think about it, I probably just passed it on to you.”

“You know how the joke goes,” Ryan said, grinning. “Being polyamorous is like having a kid in kindergarten. You end up getting every bug and passing it on.”

“Ah well,” said Shane. “If you get struck down, you can camp out at ours. Whoever isn’t coughing their lungs up can serve the other people soup.”

“It sure sounds appealing when you put it like that,” Ryan groused. 

“That’s me,” said Shane, sliding his hand into Ryan’s and squeezing his fingers, then letting go as the door opened again. “Mister Appealing.”

* * * 

Ryan texted Sara when he went to get a refill of his coffee, leaning against the coffeemaker and trying not to stare at it as it dripped. 

_Shane said you’re sick. What’s up?_

He got a selfie back: she had her hair pulled up, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Obi was draped over one shoulder like a particularly fancy scarf. 

_You look cute,_ he texted.

_I don’t feel cute,_ she texted back. _I’ve got the plague._

_When you put it like that you make it sound like you’re gonna grow a bunch of black spots that rot off,_ Ryan typed out. 

_Thanks for that mental image,_ she texted back. 

_Blame Shane. He was talking my ear off about the Black Death._

_That does sound like him,_ Sara texted, and Ryan smiled fondly at his phone.

Someone cleared their throat next to him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin - the room had been empty when he’d begun texting. 

“What’s got you grinning like that?” Jen looked at him sidelong, one eyebrow up.

“I can’t just be happy about… my twitter feed?” Ryan was aware that he was floundering, but he didn’t really know how to stop.

“In this day and age? Not really, no,” said Jen. “Budge over, you’re blocking the way.”

“Right,” said Ryan, quickly refilling his mug and doing his best not to skulk back to his desk. He knew, logically, that it was stupid to be embarrassed over acting gooey. And yet.

* * *

Shane pushed his chair back and his glasses up, then rubbed at his eyes. He looked very tired.

“What’s up?” Ryan had been thinking about packing up - he could get some extra editing in for the day, or he could go home and put his feet up. 

“I think I’m gonna be here late,” Shane said, rubbing his temples. “I need to get this done tonight. But I _also_ need to go home and take care of Sara. I promised I’d make her soup, and I know how she gets when she’s sick. She’ll try to get stuff done and end up prolonging the sick.”

“I could go take care of her,” Ryan said, surprising himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of his partners - from from it! But… he was aware of his place, as a third. Some of it was selfishness - he’d never had someone in a polyamorous relationship come to visit him when he was sick, never had a partner make him soup or bring him ginger ale. And some of it was just caution - it was one of those things that could build up resentment. Yet here he was, opening his mouth and volunteering, just like that. 

Shane looked relieved. “Would you?” He sighed as he rubbed his temples again and then dug through his pockets, sitting strangely to reach deep enough for whatever he was looking for. There were various tinklings and rustlings as whatever inhabited the pocket dimension attached to Shane’s pants jostled around. 

“Yeah, sure,” said Ryan. “I mean, uh…” he lowered his voice, “she’s my girlfriend too. It’s not like it’s a chore or something.” 

“I’ll text you her favorite soup,” said Shane, and he finally fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to Ryan. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home, so you know to unlock the door if it’s late.” He paused and looked slightly sheepish. “If, uh, if you don’t mind spending the night.”

“It’s fine,” Ryan assured Shane. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” He finished closing his laptop and put his hand on Shane’s shoulder, squeezing it. 

Shane covered Ryan’s hand with his own, and his expression was very soft. “Thanks, Ry,” he said, flopping back into his chair. He looked like death warmed over.

“You should take a break, big guy,” Ryan told him, and he stood up to stretch. His back was sore from hunching over all day, and his head felt a little stuffy. He sometimes got into the zone while writing, and it could be a bit of a shock when he came up for air. 

“I should,” Shane agreed, but he was already pulling his headphones back on and going back to typing.

Ryan rolled his eyes, and then he glanced around nervously. Nobody was paying attention to the two of them, either packing up to go home themselves, or else lost in their own projects. He pressed a nervous kiss to the top of Shane’s head and got a vague pat on the hip in response - Shane was pretty far gone already.

Ryan snorted, but he grinned as he made his way towards the elevator. He had it pretty bad.

* * * 

Shane texted him a type of soup but not a brand and Ryan stood in the aisle for almost five minutes, first trying to find Italian wedding soup, then trying to figure out which one to buy. Sara wasn’t really a picky person, was she? At least, not as far as Ryan could tell. He bought another carton of orange juice and a box of breathe easy tea. He paused and then grabbed a box of chocolate doughnuts, on the basis that he always wanted something sweet when he was sick.

(And if Sara didn’t want the doughnuts he’d eat them, so win-win, really). 

* * *

Ryan stood in front of Sara and Shane’s front door for almost a full minute, staring down at the keys in his hand. Shane had a Sasquatch multitool as a keychain - Ryan had bought it for him as a Christmas present the year before, and some small part of him was tickled that Shane had kept it. Shane had just… given him the keys. Just handed them over. He trusted Ryan enough to hand over the keys to his house, no problem. He’d even said he was going to give Ryan a key. It was the first time a member of a triad had given him a key.

Now that he thought about it, this was his first equal triad, wasn’t it? He was just… allowed to do this. He could go in and take care of Sara, without Shane worrying about being replaced, without worrying about… who even knew what. In retrospect, his last boyfriend (in that triad, anyway) had been a jerk. 

Ryan took a deep breath and unlocked Sara and Shane’s front door. 

* * *

Sara had made herself a nest on the couch, with a wastebasket full of tissues on the floor next to her and Obi on her chest. She was asleep, snoring like a beast, and Ryan locked the door behind him carefully as he tried to be as quiet as possible. Obi looked up at him, and one of his ears twitched.

“Sh,” Ryan said, tiptoeing into the kitchen. 

Hokay. He could do this. He’d make some soup, wake her up, it would all be fine. He tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head. 

* * *

Sara walked into the kitchen as he was pouring the soup into a bowl, the little meatballs plopping out and sending little splashes of soup and escarole all over the countertop. 

“Hi,” she said, and squinted at him - she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her hair was sticking out on one side, flat on the the other. She had a pillow crease up one cheek and her skin was very pink. “You’re not Shane.” She was wrapped in a blanket, and it trailed after her like the train of a wedding dress.

“What gave it away? Was it the chin? Or maybe the fact that I’ve got the standard amount of leg?” Anxiety bubbled in his stomach, although he was fucked if he could say why. Was he worried that she’d be mad at him, or something? It was entirely irrational, all things considered. 

Sara yawned, and the yawn turned into a phlegmy cough. Ryan gave her a whack on the back and she groaned, leaning over the sink and spitting out something unpleasant. “Where’s Shane?”

“He had some stuff to work on,” said Ryan. “He gave me his keys, told me to come look in on you and bring you some soup.” 

“That was sweet of him,” said Sara. “And sweet of you.” She leaned into him, still wrapped in her blanket, and he nuzzled his cheek into the top of her head, then kissed the crown of it. “You’re gonna get the plague.”

“I’d get the plague regardless,” Ryan said, “as often as I’m around here.”

“True enough,” said Sara, yawning again and rubbing her eyes. “I slept all day, but I wanna keep sleeping.”

“Have you eaten anything?” He handed her the bowl of soup, then grabbed her a spoon. 

“...I don’t remember," said Sara, screwing her face up and then heading towards the couch. She sat down carefully, putting the soup on the coffee table. 

“That means you need to eat,” said Ryan, sitting down next to her and indicating the soup. “C’mon.”

She looked at him wearily and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “I’m exhausted,” she mumbled. 

“I know,” he said, and kissed her forehead. She was clammy but she didn’t feel too feverish, and her hair was sticking to her sweatily. “You want to take a shower, after you eat?”

“Are you saying I smell bad?” She looked up at him through her eyelashes and she wrinkled her nose. “Because _I_ say I smell bad.”

“That’s all on you, babe,” said Ryan. “When I’m sick, I know a shower makes me feel better.” 

She clung to his shirt, and the blanket fell down around her hips. She was wearing one of Shane’s shirts and a pair of Ryan’s pajama pants. “I hate being like this,” she mumbled. She snuggled Ryan closer, her nose in his neck. 

“I know,” he said sympathetically wrapping his arms around her. 

“You want any soup?” She indicated her abandoned bowl. 

“Nah, I’m good,” said Ryan. He wasn’t exactly a fan of escarole. 

“I feel weird drinking by myself,” she said. “Eating. Whatever.”

“I’ll have a sandwich,” he told her, “and you can eat your soup. Okay?” 

“Okay,” said Sara, and she wrinkled her nose. “I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“What, sick?” Ryan snorted. “It happens to the best of us.” He indicated the bowl of soup, and the coffee table. “Go. Eat. I’ll make my sandwich, we can eat together, and then you can go shower, okay?” 

“Do it with me,” Sara said, but she was holding the bowl and making her way towards the table. 

“I just said I would,” Ryan said as she went to sit down. He took out two slices of bread, packages of bologna and cheese, a bottle of mustard, and a jar of pickles. He set all of it on the table and assembled his sandwich with the precision of a surgeon performing a triple bypass.

Sara watched him with amusement, chewing on meatballs and slurping up escarole. “Shower with me.” 

“Oh. Sure.” He put away the sandwich fixings and then sat back down across from her while taking a bite out of his sandwich. “Any particular reason why?” 

She shrugged. “I could give you a sexy answer - “

“Sara,” he said, and he almost said _I love you_ , but… no. “Sara,” he said again, “you are very sexy, but there is a time and a place and this isn’t it.”

Sara snorted. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment,” she said, and slurped up another meatball. 

“You should take everything I say to you as a compliment,” Ryan said, and even he was a bit disappointed in what a smarmy line it was. 

Sara had a piece of escarole stuck between her teeth and it looked like seaweed when she smiled at him, but it was a bright smile. “You are such a fucking cheeseball,” she told him. 

“No, that’s Shane,” Ryan said, then took a bite of his sandwich. “He’s from the Midwest, remember?” 

“I still can’t believe that cheeseballs are a real thing,” said Sara, slurping her soup. “Like… it’s just a _ball_ of _cheese_.” Another slurp, and she was looking slightly more human. 

“Don’t you eat chopped liver?” Ryan stood up and he Sara a glass of water, setting it in front of her. 

“That’s different, Also, you’re giving me water while I’m drinking soup,” Sara said, looking down at the glass. “What, do you want me to float away?” 

“It’ll do you good,” Ryan said. “And hey, water goes better with soup than orange juice, doesn’t it?”

Sara wrinkled her nose. “I can’t really argue with that,” she said. 

“Exactly,” said Ryan, and he continued eating his sandwich. 

* * *

Ryan stood under the showerhead, water drumming down on him and blotting out the anxiety that always seemed to be screaming on the edges of his mind. Sara was pressed against him, her forehead against his collarbone. She was gracious enough to ignore his boner, which he, in turn, was gracious enough to refrain from pressing into her by angling his hips away. He washed her back, her belly, her breasts, her legs. She leaned into him and let him wash her hair. 

It probably should have felt different - less her allowing him to do something for her, more him doing her a favor. And yet. 

Somehow, he felt as if _he_ was the one receiving a favor - like taking care of her was an honor. He was probably thinking about this too deeply - at the end of the day, he was helping his girlfriend out by washing her hair. It wasn't some great service or anything like that. He had done it before. 

He was extra careful, kneading the suds into her scalp and then covering her eyes as he rinsed the soap out. He helped her tilt her head back as he ran his fingers through her hair. She was practically liquid against him, leaning back with her head on his shoulder. “That's nice,” she murmured. 

“I'm glad,” he said. “You feeling better?”

“Definitely less gross,” she said. “You were right.” She yawned. “Although now I'm extra tired.”

“You should go to bed,” said Ryan. “You know, before you fall asleep in the shower.”

“Not possible,” Sara opined. “Anyway, if I did that you'd just carry me to bed.” 

“You seem awfully confident in my abilities,” Ryan said, giving himself a quick scrub down. He'd been so busy concentrating on washing Sara that he hadn't thought to wash himself. She leaned against the wall, her eyes half shut, just waiting as he soaped his chest and then washed his face and armpits. He was still hard but he did his best to ignore it, washing around it and focusing on his thighs. 

Sara had another coughing fit, although it sounded… better - more productive, to put it bluntly. She spat something into the drain and sighed. “That's better,” she said, although her voice croaked. “Of course I have faith in your abilities. I've seen your muscles."

“C'mon,” Ryan said, rinsing himself off. “We should get you to bed.” It took effort not to preen. He was finally getting used to being looked at - to _enjoying_ being looked at. 

“Stay with me?” Sara shuddered when Ryan turned the water off. 

“Of course,” Ryan said. “I'll just unlock the door so Shane can come in.” He took a step out, dripping, and stretched, relishing the contrast of his overheated skin and the cooler air. 

“Right,” Sara said, towelling herself off, various bits jiggling in ways that made Ryan's cock begin to throb. 

God, the thing could be annoying sometimes. He gave it a metaphorical glare and dried himself off. 

“I'm going to take some cold medicine,” Sara told him, “although, I should warn you, I get kinda dumb when I'm on that stuff.”

“I've seen you drunk,” Ryan reminded her. “How different can it be?”

Sara rolled her eyes, opening the medicine cabinet and taking out the bottle. “This is going to suck,” she said, her tone philosophical. 

“You can say that about most things,” Ryan countered. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

“You are so full of shit,” said Sara, carefully pouring out the measure of cold medicine into its little plastic shot glass, like a mad scientist measuring things in beakers. 

“Yep,” Ryan agreed, moving out from behind her to go into the bedroom and dig through the drawer that had been designated as “his” to find a pair of pajama pants and one of his shirts. He liked the idea of being able to wear Shane’s shirts - there was something downright _romantic_ about wearing his boyfriend’s shirts - but with how bulky he was these days… it wasn't really an option.

“Not even gonna deny it?” Sara looked down at the little cup of cold medicine, wrinkling her nose. It was blue and smelled like something made by an unholy science that god forgot. 

“I don’t wanna fight a handicapped opponent,” he told her, pulling his shirt down over his head. The pajama pants were soft against his legs - his skin was still sensitive from the hot water and scrubbing, and arousal was coiling in his belly. It was a calm, warm place to be. He wanted to hold on to it for as long as he could.

“I feel like I’m being insulted, but I’m not sure how to respond,” said Sara. She was still naked, glaring at the little cup of cough syrup.

Ryan kissed her on the temple, his hand on her shoulder. “You gonna take it?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just gotta brace myself for it.” 

“You do that,” he said, and he kissed her on the forehead, squeezed her shoulder, and left the bathroom to putter around. 

* * *

Ryan unlocked the front door for Shane, although it gave him the heebie jeebies to deliberately leave the door unlocked. Still, he and Sara were clearly home, and it wasn't as if the Vampire of Sacramento was wandering around these days. 

(He wished he hadn't read up on the Vampire of Sacramento. That guy had been _messed up_.)

He would feel better once Shane got home, but that was the case anyway, wasn't it? He was also half-hard, his cock making a small tent in his pajama pants, an insistent reminder that he had gotten to see Sara _naked_. Some teenage-boy part of himself still marveled at the fact that he regularly got to see hot people naked, in person. Marveled at the fact that he didn't just get to see them, he got to touch them, kiss them, be in their lives. 

There was a horrified sound from the bathroom - Sara taking her cold medicine. She groaned, and then there was the sound of throat clearing. Then Ryan heard the closet door opening, shuffling, and the _whump_ of someone throwing themselves onto a bed. By the time he went into the bedroom, Sara was curled up on her side of the bed, blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. 

“Stay with me?” He couldn't see her face, just her eyes peering out at him from inside the blanket. 

“Of course,” said Ryan, climbing in with her. “Do you want me to wake you up when Shane gets home?”

“Maybe,” Sara said, burrowing into his side, her head on his chest. There was a beat, and then she mumbled something. He couldn't catch what she was saying, but her chest vibrated against his arm. 

“What was that?” The light from the bedside table was low, and everything had a shadowy look - things almost flickered like they were in firelight. They were in a little pocket of light surrounded by the darkness of the apartment, the darkness outside. It reminded Ryan of being very young, and hearing his parents washing dishes and settling down to watch television. He pressed his nose into the top of Sara’s head, taking in the familiar scent of her shampoo, of _her_. He was weirdly choked up and he wasn’t sure why.

“Could you read to me?” Sara sounded sheepish. “Sorry, forget about it. I’ve got some books on tape, we could -” 

“What would you like me to read to you?” Ryan interrupted, before she could go into a spiral. She looked ragged around the edges, her hair a dark, curly halo around her head, her eyes half-lidded. 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Sara said. “I mean, uh….” She cuddled in closer, holding on to his shirt in one fist, her breath hot and familiar against his neck. 

“It’s not,” he assured her. “So what would you like me to read?” 

“...I’ve got a book in my bedside drawer,” she said, sounding embarrassed. “It’s, uh… it was a favorite of mine when I was a little kid. My parents sent it over, and I’ve been reading it before I go to sleep.”

“Gimme a sec,” Ryan said, leaning over her to open the bedside drawer. There was an old, thin paperback inside - the cover was an image of a bunch of little girls in dark blue dresses and white pinafores (were they called pinafores? Ryan could never keep that stuff straight). “ _All of a Kind Family_ ,” he read. “What’s it about?”

“A Jewish family on the Lower East Side of New York,” Sara said. “My grandmother wanted me to be a good Jewish girl, read good Jewish books. This one stuck, since I like history stuff.”

“Right,” said Ryan. “You want me to start from anywhere in particular?” 

“Nah,” Sara said, sinking down into the blankets, her head pillowed on Ryan’s chest. “Just start from the beginning?”

“Okay.” He opened the book carefully and began to read. “‘That slowpoke Sarah!’ Henny cried. ‘She’s making us late!’” 

Sara's eyes drifted shut, her hand still clutching at his shirt. 

* * *

Ryan was woken up some hours later by the front door closing. So either Shane was home, or someone was breaking in.

Um.

He shouldn’t have gone down that mental road, now that he thought about it. _Fuck_. 

He heard the sound of someone locking the door behind them - probably not a robber, then? - and a quiet voice talking… maybe to Obi? Okay, that was Shane. Who else would talk to a cat? Actually no, that was a lie, if Ryan was robbing a house he would _totally_ talk to the cat. Shit. Were they being robbed?

And then Shane’s head poked around the door, his eyes sleepy and his hair on end - he must have been running his fingers through it. His face went soft when he saw the two of them, and he retreated back into the darkness of the living room.

Ryan disentangled himself from Sara and kissed the top of her head, then he turned the light off and made his way towards the living room. He found Shane standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at the microwave. It was nearly ten. “You okay there, big guy?” 

Shane jumped and looked over at Ryan, his expression faintly fuzzy. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” said Ryan, standing on tiptoe to kiss Shane on the corner of his mouth. 

“I don’t like editing,” said Shane, resting his forehead against the top of Ryan’s head. “I think Sara gave me some of her cold.”

“I’m doomed,” said Ryan gloomily. “I’m going to catch the plague.”

“Yep,” said Shane, and he had his arm wrapped around Ryan’s waist and nuzzled into his hair. His breath smelled like stale coffee, and he had dark circles under his eyes. “That’s what caused all the plagues. Giant polycules.”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t say ‘polycule’ ever again,” he said, as Shane leaned further onto him - he was more or less keeping Shane upright, as Shane yawned.

“I refuse. If I’m gonna do this, I’m gonna be as insufferable as humanly possible.” Shane’s voice was muffled as he spoke into Ryan’s hair. “Why do I do this fucking job?”

“Because money can be exchanged for goods and services,” Ryan said in his best Homer Simpson voice.

“Curse you, capitalism,” Shane said, his voice tired. “So what is there for food?”

“I don’t think you want Italian wedding soup,” said Ryan. “You don't strike me as an escarole fan.” 

“I think Sara might cut me if I did that,” said Shane. “What’d you guys get up to?”

“I had a sandwich, she had some soup, we showered, I read to her, we went to bed.” He felt like he was giving a status report, and he was blushing as he spoke. He felt… something, and he wasn’t sure what it was. Something tender, almost carbonated, fizzing up his throat and out of his mouth. He was exhaling adoration with carbon dioxide, and it filled the whole room like mist. He’d have been embarrassed if he wasn’t still floating on cloud nine. 

“That sounds nice,” said Shane. “You gonna go back to sleep?” 

“I mean, eventually,” said Ryan, and he ran his fingers through Shane’s hair just because he _could_. 

“So what do you want to do for dinner?” Shane leaned back against the counter. 

“Not soup,” said Ryan. “Or bologna sandwiches. Other than that, I’m open to pretty much anything.”

“That gives us the whole fuckin’ world of cuisine to choose from,” said Shane. “I don’t feel like cooking.”

“What’s delivering at this time of night?” Ryan pulled back, stretching, and then he put his arms around Shane’s waist, hooking his fingers into Shane’s belt loop. 

“Ryan, I’m ashamed of you,” Shane said. “We live in the _City of Angels_. We could get sauteed unicorn liver at our door if we wanted it badly enough.” 

“Is liver a thing that you should saute?” Ryan disentangled himself from Shane to go find his laptop.

“I think you’re spending too much time around the _Tasty_ crew,” said Shane, and then he bent down to pick up Obi’s water dish. “If you’re legitimately ruminating on this.”

“What, I can’t have feelings about food?” Ryan sat at the kitchen table, opening his laptop. “Okay. So we’re limited to what’s delivering at this time of night -”

“We’re in _LA_ , Ryan, who isn’t delivering at this time of night?” Shane dumped out Obi’s old water and refilled the dish as the orange cat wound around his ankles. 

“There’s plenty of things,” said Ryan. “Thai, sushi, Chinese food, burgers….” He scrolled down, leaning in to read the small print. 

“Ah, America, the land of opportunity and infinite choice.” There was a rattle as Shane opened the can of cat food. “So what would you like?”

“Um,” said Ryan. “I genuinely… don’t know what I want.” His head was still fuzzy from napping, or possibly from all the warm and cuddly feelings. 

“Fuck,” said Shane, and he rubbed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s… let’s do Chinese. You know what I like, order that. And also egg rolls. I want egg rolls.”

“If I was sick,” said Ryan, “I’d get some of that roasted duck soup. Should we order some for Sara?” He glanced up at Shane, who was rinsing out the empty can of cat food. 

Shane shook his head. “She doesn’t like bone-in stuff,” he said. “Remember? You were razzing her for that a month ago.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ryan, sheepish. “Should we order her something?” 

Shane stared at the ceiling, clearly thinking. He was tired enough that his thoughts danced across his face like shadows on a wall. 

It was all so… domestic. He _belonged_ here. This was a place where he was wanted. It wasn't a new sensation, per se, but… he hadn't ever expected it with Sara and Shane. Not like this. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, pulling Ryan out of his thoughts. “What's that term? Feed a cold, starve a fever?”

“I don't fuckin’ know,” said Ryan. “What should I order?”

"You know Sara," Shane said. "Just order her something she'd like." He looked worn around the edges and was rubbing his temples. 

Ryan was struck with the sudden, inexplicable urge to get down on his knees. Get on his knees, unzip Shane's chinos, and suck him to completion there and then. Ryan blinked as he stared at the computer screen - he didn't usually get hit quite so... intensely, out of the blue like this. Usually _something_ was a catalyst. But no - just Shane, standing there like an oversized sloth. Hm. "Go sit, maybe? I'll make the order, you can relax." Ryan hoped he sounded casual, but this felt more like the kind of false casual he associated with porn videos. 

"Yes, sir," Shane said, giving a mock salute and then flopping onto the couch, leaning back into the cushions like a scarecrow that had been dropped off of its post. 

Ryan rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. He chose something mild for Sara, pressed "order," and leaned back in his chair. Okay. Arousal was building in the pit of his belly, and something... else as well. He wanted... what? He wanted to take care of Shane. He wanted to make Shane laugh, to see the tension leave Shane's shoulders... he wanted to know that he did a good job, and the urge for _that_ felt stronger than the urge to shove his cock into something hot, wet, and tight. He wanted to please Shane, to please Sara. He wanted it _viscerally_ , and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

Shane called from his spot on the couch. "Everything sorted?"

"Yeah," said Ryan, standing up and stretching with his hands over his head and his back arching. "We've got between half an hour and forty-five minutes."

"Good to know," Shane said, drowsy. 

Ryan got on his knees in front of Shane. It was novel, to just... do the thing. He was seized by some kind of giddy... what was it? He didn't know. His mind wasn't racing, he wasn't second guessing himself. He was just on his knees in front of Shane with his hands resting on Shane's thighs, and Shane was looking down at him, sleepy and confused. 

"You drop something, Ryan?" Shane looked down at him, one eyebrow up. 

"You look like you need to do more relaxing," said Ryan, internally marveling at the fact that he was saying this even as he said it, his hands sliding up and down Shane's inner thighs. "We've, uh... we've got some time before the food arrives." He squeezed Shane's thighs, and he shuddered, going faintly boneless. 

"Well," Shane said, his hand resting on top of Ryan's head, "if we've got _time_..." His hand was very heavy, and his fingers sank into Ryan's hair. 

Ryan nibbled on the seam of Shane's pants, up Shane's left leg. He kneaded at Shane's inner thigh, and Shane shivered as he tugged on Ryan's hair. Shane looked down at Ryan through his eyelashes. He was already starting to get hard under Ryan's fingers, swelling up. "Y'know," Ryan said as he unzipped Shane's pants, "you have a really nice cock."

Shane's fingers combed through Ryan's hair as Ryan pushed his boxers down, nuzzling into his half-hard cock. "A really nice one, huh? What makes it nice?" His fingers traced along the rim of Ryan's ear and then behind it, up along one sideburn to Ryan's eyebrow. 

"Well, for one, it's attached to you," said Ryan. He opened his mouth, breathing along the shaft, and then he wrapped his hand around it to bring the head to his mouth. He licked the very tip and Shane shuddered, his whole body twitching, then going still. 

"You big softy," Shane said affectionately. He pushed Ryan's hair back and Ryan looked up at him again, making eye contact. 

Ryan kept their eye contact as he leaned further forward, and then he wrapped his lips around the head of Shane's cock. He leaned further forward until he was halfway down, and he hollowed his cheeks out, running his tongue up and down the underside of Shane's cock. He let almost all of it slide out of his mouth, so that the very tip rested on the inside of his lower lip. 

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Ryan," Shane groaned, and he yanked on Ryan's hair, his other hand covering his own mouth. 

Ryan pulled back, letting the head of Shane's cock smear across his cheek. "Something the matter?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you," said Shane. His fingers pressed down on Ryan's jaw, forcing Ryan's mouth a little further open, then letting him go.

"I mean," Ryan said, "you could fuck my face. If you'd like." He knew he was blushing as he said it, and he licked his lips. He was well aware of Shane's eyes on his tongue, following its sweep of his lips. 

"If I'd like," Shane echoed. "Is it something _you'd_ like?" 

Ryan paused. _Was_ it something he'd like? He wanted... something. He wanted to provide Shane with whatever it was that Shane wanted. 

That was an odd way to look at it. If Shane had asked him to get up and bake a cake, Ryan would have done it. He might have complained a bit as he did it - Ryan didn't like to bake, and he didn't like to be interrupted while he was doing anything _fun_. But he'd do it. The idea of it made his heart beat faster and his cheeks heat, and that was weird in and of itself because... fuck, this couldn't be normal. None of this could be normal. Then again, did he want to be normal? If things were normal he probably wouldn't be in a triad, wouldn't be doing... well, a whole lot of things. Things were off the rails already, so why not keep riding?

"Ryan?" Shane cupped Ryan's cheek, his thumb against the hinge of Ryan's jaw. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah," said Ryan. "Sorry. But… if you want to fuck my face, I’d like that. But I’d also like it if you… didn’t. If you want me to do all the work, I’d be okay with that too.”

“You’re losing me here, Ryan,” said Shane, although he was still hard enough that Ryan could see him pulse. “What do you want?” 

“I… I want whatever you want,” Ryan said, and he meant it. That was novel, and it made his stomach twist in interesting ways. “Whatever that is.” He was being intense. He was being _way_ too intense, and it was probably going to overwhelm Shane - shit, this wasn’t the time for this type of thing. He should have - 

“If I’m going to fuck your face,” Shane said, “you need to tilt your head back.” He said it matter of factly, but he was blushing. It wasn’t as if Shane was a prude - he’d shoved his cock down Ryan’s throat before. Maybe he was picking up on some of the intensity? 

“Right,” said Ryan, and he opened his mouth wider and tilted his head back, so that Shane could slide in as deep as he wanted. He almost coughed as Shane guided his cock into his mouth, along his tongue, then down into his throat. He gagged around it, and Shane began to pull back… and then shoved himself back in, deep enough that his nose was mashed into Shane’s belly. 

This was how Shane liked it. He liked to push his cock in as deep as it would go, just twitching his hips a little bit to get some friction, but otherwise to stay fully buried inside whoever or whatever he was fucking. It was… well, it was more than a little difficult for Ryan to breathe, but he kept his mouth around Shane’s cock, sucking clumsily, drool dripping down his chin and soaking into Shane’s pants. He let Shane grab onto his hair on either side of his face, except instead of just… fucking Ryan’s face, Shane was looking down at him. His hands moved down to Ryan’s cheeks, and his thumbs passed over Ryan’s cheekbones and along his hollowed cheeks. They tracked through the tears leaking out of Ryan’s eyes, spreading the damp stickiness along Ryan’s face. 

“God, Ry,” said Shane, and his voice was thick but not as thick as his cock, filling Ryan’s throat and making him gag and choke. He held on to Shane’s hips tightly before he could have a chance to pull back, because _god_ he didn’t want this to end. Even as uncomfortable as it was, it scratched some… itch, deep in the back of Ryan’s head that he hadn’t known was there.

_I’m gonna get a wrecked voice from coughing if I keep sleeping next to Sara, anyway,_ thought Ryan. _This is a much more enjoyable way to go about it._

Ryan bobbed his head, sucking awkwardly and trying to swallow but mainly just making a mess of his own shirt. His own arousal throbbed in his pants, his cock hard enough to leak. It soaked into the thin cotton, sticking to his leg. It was all so… messy. It was sticky, slimy, as Ryan’s eyes and nose ran and saliva dripped out of his mouth. There was wanting in the very base of Ryan’s gut, and that same urge he'd felt before - _ruin it, say the wrong thing, make him hate you the way he should_ was there, but… different. _Ask him to slap you, pull your hair, punch you, bite you. Ask him to tell you that he hates you, then make him take it back_. It was a quick flash of want, but when it was gone bits of it lingered like an afterimage. 

Shane’s eyes ran up and down his face, taking in the mess of him, occasionally meeting Ryan’s eyes and then looking away. Ryan realized, with some surprise, that he’d be okay if Shane did… anything right now. That he wanted Shane to do something unexpected, that he wanted Shane to come across his face or call him a slut or slap him so hard his ears rang. He wanted Shane to keep looking at him like that, with that same mix of arousal and awe. 

Fuck. 

Was he… kinky?

He swallowed around the dick in his mouth and tried to shove those thoughts out of his head. They were new and weird, and there was a time and a place to explore weird sex things. He was supposed to be pleasuring Shane right now, helping him relax after a stressful day. His weird… kinky thing wasn’t for a quiet moment when the two of them were being intimate, waiting for their dinner to arrive. He closed his eyes and took in the deep, back-of-the-throat scent of Shane, letting it settle in his head like fog over a river.

Shane was panting, gasping, grunting - a whole fucking symphony of sounds that made Ryan’s cock throb harder in his pants, making him want to grind against his own hand, to jerk himself off desperately. But no. This was for Shane. He wanted to hold on to the desperation of arousal until Shane had come, he wanted to keep his cock in his mouth and down his throat for as long as he could, sucking and moaning awkwardly around it, until - 

There was a knock on the door.

Ryan didn’t bite down, thank fuck, but he jerked back, looking up at Shane with a no-doubt shocked expression. 

Shane looked down at him, his expression comically serious. “I thought you said half an hour to forty-five minutes!”

“Maybe it’s _been_ that long?” Ryan blinked up at Shane, his eyelashes still sticky with tears. His voice was a croaking, creaking mess. 

“No way,” said Shane. There was another knock on the door, and Ryan stood up without thinking and made his way towards it.

“Ryan,” Shane hissed, “you’re… you can’t just…” 

“Hm?” 

Shane gestured for Ryan to come closer, and he wiped his hand across Ryan’s face ineffectively; Shane made an annoyed noise. “You look like you’ve just been face-fucked,” he told Ryan, “and you’ve got a really big boner.”

“I’ve already paid,” said Ryan. “I’ll just give him his tip, he won’t care.”

“If you’re sure,” said Shane, although he looked nervous. He must have been nervous, since he didn’t even make a “just the tip” joke. 

“Well, you could -” Ryan indicated Shane’s dick, which was still hard, flushed, and pointing forward. “You could put that away.”

Shane groaned, covering his face with both hands. 

“I got it,” Ryan said, and he shoved a pillow at Shane’s lap and went to open the door. 

* * *

The delivery guy didn’t seem to notice anything weird. In fact, he barely looked up - took his tip, handed over the bags, and then he was down the stairs and into his car.

What Ryan _didn’t_ expect was for Shane to press him into the closed door, belly to back, and to kiss him like it was the end of the world. Shane’s big hands were on Ryan’s face, his tongue as deep into Ryan’s mouth as he could get it, his cock leaving wet spots on Ryan’s shirt. His hands were full of the bags of food, and he couldn’t do anything but stand there and be kissed. 

Shane pulled back, his eyes dark and his lips swollen. “Ryan,” he said, speaking directly against Ryan’s mouth, his voice buzzing through Ryan’s teeth. “Ryan, I am going to fuck you on the closest horizontal surface. I feel like I should let you know this before the metaphorical cogs start moving.” His hands slid up Ryan’s back, under his shirt, sliding in the sweat there. 

“Right,” Ryan said. “Can I maybe put down the food? Before you get to plowing me like a field, I mean.” He meant to sound like he was joking, but his whole body was trembling. Everything felt weirdly… intense, and he couldn’t understand why. It was just the two of them fucking around - they’d done this before.

“You go put the food in the kitchen,” Shane said, pulling away, “and I’m going to get the lube.” He was walking awkwardly with his pants still undone, his cock bobbing out in front of him. It would have been funny, if Ryan wasn’t so stupidly horny. He put the bags on the kitchen counter… only to be pounced on as he walked by the kitchen table.

It was a proper pouncing - one minute Ryan was walking by the table, the next he was pushed onto it. There had to be some in-between phase, but there _wasn’t_ , because now Ryan was seated on the table (the kind you could butcher a cow on, all dark wood and legs thicker around than Ryan’s thigh). He wrapped his legs around Shane’s waist. They were forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Shane’s breath was hot against Ryan’s face, and his hands were hurried as they pushed down Ryan’s pajama pants and drew his cock out. 

“God,” Shane said, and he looked downright _debauched_ , his eyes dark and his lips swollen. He kissed Ryan again, one hand around Ryan’s cock, the other in Ryan’s hair. “Fuck, Ry….” Shane's expression made Ryan want to hide, and at the same time it made him want to never look away. He kissed him, wrapping his hand around Shane’s cock and jerking him off, sweet and nasty.

Ryan moaned against Shane’s mouth and then whined as Shane crouched down in front of _him_ , looking up at him. “If you try to suck me off I’m not gonna last,” Ryan said, which was true. _I don’t think I want to come,_ popped into his head and nearly out of his mouth, but he bit it back. Time and a place, Bergara. Time and a place.

“You showered with Sara, right?” Shane pulled Ryan’s pants down further and off, leaving him bare below the waist. He was between Ryan’s legs, looking up at him Ryan’s cock was half in the way. 

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “Why?” He rested his heels on Shane’s shoulders, looking down at him. He had a feeling he knew what Shane was getting at, but…

“Just making sure,” said Shane, grabbing the backs of Ryan’s knees and pulling him closer to the edge of the table. He tilted his head back, to an angle that was no doubt hard on his neck. Ryan couldn’t see anything else, he could just feel Shane’s hot breath on his balls, the tickle of it against his hole. Shane’s hands held his ass open, and then the tip of Shane’s tongue slid into him, making little twists along the rim of his hole. 

Ryan realized he was holding on to his own hair. He was holding on to his hair _and_ his face, and Shane was doing wet, dirty things that made Ryan’s eyes roll back in his head as he humped into Shane’s face awkwardly. _We’re going to be covered in drool by the end of this_ , passed through his mind, and then he didn’t think about much of anything because Shane sucked on his balls as one finger traced the edges of his hole. He shuddered and then the finger slid into him, curving up to press on his prostate. There were fireworks going on behind his eyes, and Shane added a second finger so quickly Ryan barely noticed it, because holy _fuck_. 

Was he this pent up? He didn’t… he didn’t want to come. He wanted to stay wanting! He wanted it so badly, and why? The whole point of having sex was to come, or to make your partner come. He knew that was an unenlightened thing to think, but it was there in his mind nonetheless. He liked sex because he liked orgasms; giving orgasms, getting orgasms, sharing orgasms. Sharing the connection that came _with_ orgasms. And yet here he was, holding on with all his might to keep from coming. _Until his cock is in me_ , he told himself, his eyes squeezed shut. Shane’s tongue slid along the seam of his balls, and Ryan's back arched as his heels dug in harder. Shane was probably going to be bruised, come to think of it. Ryan concentrated with all his might on not coming. He needed this to not be over, he needed to keep going. He needed to be _here_ for as long as he could: forever, if possible. Here, with Shane’s attention on him, Shane’s mouth and fingers. He reveled in the selfishness of it as Shane pulled back, standing up on shaky knees.

“So, I’m going to put my dick in your ass now,” Shane said. “Just, like… making sure you know. So you have a heads-up.”

“Mmm?” Ryan’s own dick was trembling, pulsing with his heartbeat and dripping a steady stream of pre-come onto his stomach and down his shaft. He was still shaking, he realized, but it was a distant sort that he could live with. He just had to just lie here as Shane manhandled him, adjusting him this way and that. Then the blunt, hot head of Shane’s cock was against Ryan’s thigh, slippery with lube - when had Shane had a chance to put lube on? Maybe when he’d been eating Ryan out? Shane put Ryan's ankles over his shoulders. 

Shane had to use one hand to guide his cock in, and when it slid home, it was _good_ \- the burn and stretch of it made Ryan’s toes curl against Shane’s hair, which was a singularly odd, satisfying sensation. It matched up with the satisfaction of the head of Shane’s cock breaching his hole and slowly sliding into him, until the wiry hair at the base of Shane’s cock was up against his ass and Shane was leaning over him. One of Shane’s hands went to Ryan’s cock and Ryan batted it away, almost without thinking. 

Shane raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything - he drew his hips back, pulling nearly all the way out, and then he pushed back in, deeper, almost folding Ryan in half. Ryan arched into it, trying to get Shane as deep as he could. “I really want to kiss you,” Shane said. 

“You wanna wait ‘til you’ve brushed your teeth a bit, maybe?” Ryan gave an awkward little giggle and then his fingers found Shane’s so they were holding hands. Sustained eye contact and holding hands while Shane fucked into him was the kind of romantic moment that normally made Ryan uncomfortable, except it was _perfect_ now, exactly perfect. Ryan clenched around Shane and his cock flexed against his belly. His throat was thick with tears - was he going to cry? This was so much, but at the same time… it wasn’t. It was exactly what he wanted, but he was afraid. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Ry,” Shane said, as his breath and his hips sped up. “Tell me what you’re feeling, I want to know, let me into your head, _please_.” He sped up, still barely leaving Ryan’s ass, still so deep it was making Ryan see lights behind his eyes. He held on to Shane’s fingers as tightly as he could as his orgasm began to build in him. 

“I….” _love you, am afraid you’ll leave me when I get boring, want to stay_ “I don’t want to come, Shane, I don’t want to come, don’t let me come, don’t let me -” 

Ryan’s orgasm washed over him, brighter than a flashbulb, his cock spitting come across his belly. His ass clenched around Shane as pleasure pulsed through him in flash after flash of light. He went limp on the table and stared into Shane’s face as his hips sped up again, while Shane hurtled towards his own orgasm. 

“A bit late for that,” Shane said, and he chuckled like a drain and swiveled his hips. Ryan groaned, squeezing Shane’s cock and Shane's fingers at the same time, keeping up the unbroken, intense eye contact. Shane's face was red, his hair pasted down with sweat. He was beginning to tremble, but he needed… something to send him over the edge, clearly.

Ryan brought Shane's hand up to his mouth and kissed Shane's fingertip - and his own. He took both their fingers into his mouth and swirled his tongue along the tips. 

Shane shuddered, his hips stuttering forward. He pressed down on Ryan's tongue and thrust his hips forward, his knuckles white where he clutched Ryan's hands. Shane came in Ryan’s ass, his cock pulsing where it was seated deep inside him, his come hot. He'd let go of Ryan’s ankles, and Ryan’s feet dangled off of the edge of the table onto empty air. His head was pleasantly empty, although he wrinkled his nose when Shane’s sweat dripped down onto his face. “Y’know,” Shane said, his tone as casual as ever, “if you don't want to come, maybe warn a guy a little sooner?” He dipped his fingers in Ryan’s come, rubbing it into his shirt.

Ryan made a face - he was going to have to wash this shirt. He was probably going to have to shower again, too, and definitely give the table a good wipe down. “It kinda just… came out,” he said, and he grunted as Shane pulled his cock out of him, come dripping down his thigh. 

“That’s what come usually does, yes,” Shane said dryly.

“You are so full of shit,” Ryan said, but he grinned. He stretched, and his back complained - the table wasn’t exactly _soft_. 

“And _you’re_ full of jizz,” Shane countered, going to grab a paper towel. He ran it under the tap, then offered it to Ryan. 

“... I can’t argue with that,” said Ryan, standing up carefully and wiping himself off. His knees were still weak.

“We should shower,” said Shane. “Then eat dinner.”

“We'll have to reheat it,” Ryan said. He pulled his shirt up and off, leaving him topless and with his cock still out, come drying on the tip. 

“We'd need to reheat it anyway,” said Shane. “Let's go shower.”

“Right,” said Ryan, but he leaned into Shane, pressing his forehead into Shane's shoulder. He was having… feelings. He didn't know what they were, but he was having them. 

“You okay, little guy?” Shane’s fingers ran through Ryan’s hair, pushing it back and off of his face. 

“Yeah,” Ryan said, and he sighed. He didn’t want to ruin the moment with his anxiety - he was afraid it’d all come spewing out of his mouth like so much bile. 

“Okay,” said Shane, and he kissed Ryan on the head. “I trust you to tell me stuff, y’know.” There was a faintly plaintive note in his voice, and it made Ryan’s stomach twist in new and interesting ways.

“Yeah,” said Ryan, and he almost believed him. 

* * *

Ryan was stepping into the shower when exhaustion slammed down on him and draped over his shoulders like a snake. The rest of the evening was a blur, just a series of snapshots. He showered with Shane (half asleep), ate their reheated dinner (two-thirds asleep), and went to bed (dead to the world). 

He woke up with a throbbing head and a tickle in his throat. He _also_ woke up with Shane’s leg hooked around his and Sara’s fingers tangled in the hem of his shirt. So, fair trade, really. 

* * *

The next morning, Sara was up and about. She made them all coffee, her breath no longer whistling through her throat, and Ryan didn’t even try to stop looking at her all doe-eyed as they joked and flirted. It was all so _normal_ \- he felt like he belonged here, with them. When they headed off to work, exchanging chaste pecks at the door, his heart sang like a bird. 

The anxiety set in later that day, of course, but he did his best to ignore it. 

He also tried to ignore the way the tickle in his throat was getting worse, because he didn’t have _time_ for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read _All of a Kind Family_ when I was very young, and am now somewhat terrified to try reading it again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a brief mention of vomiting in this chapter, for a heads up.

Ryan lasted for four days before he succumbed. 

There was probably a better way to describe it than that, but how else was he supposed to? He went to work, he went to bed, he went to work, he went to bed. He sent a few perfunctory texts to Sara and Shane at various points, but his head was too stuffy, and his chest was too full of gunk. They were understanding, at least - some part of him was disappointed that they weren’t chasing him, but logically… that made no sense. It wasn’t fair to expect people to chase you, especially when you weren’t giving people whatever signals would indicate that you wanted to be chased.

How did you give those signals, anyway? And what were they? He’d never understood that. On the morning of the third day since he’d started to get sick, he lay in bed and stared at the light on the ceiling, where the sun slanted in through the blinds. His head was pounding like an EDM song, and his breath was rattling in his chest. He sat up to begin to get ready for work… and promptly flopped back down. Okay, no. 

So he was staying home today. He had stayed home yesterday, too, but that had been “working from home." This was gonna be full-on _staying home_. He fired off an email, went to the bathroom. He stared off into the distance while making a face as he took a shot of Nyquil, then made his way back to bed. He pulled the blankets around himself, staying half-elevated on his pillows to keep from drowning in the gunk in his chest. His last thought, before he fell asleep, was that it would be nice if Shane or Sara were here. He wanted someone to fuss over him. Although asking someone to fuss over you when you were sick felt… awkward. 

Maybe he just needed to get over the awkward and tell them about his feelings. They seemed like they’d appreciate that. 

* * *

Ryan woke up to his phone buzzing and he groaned, grabbing for it before it vibrated its way off of the night table. “Yeah?” His voice was a wheezy croak. 

“Okay, good, you're not dead,” said Sara on the other end of the line. “You haven't answered any texts.”

“Been sleeping,” Ryan said, and then he coughed so hard that he saw lights behind his eyes. 

“You sound horrible,” Sara told him. “Open your front door.”

“Why?” His head was throbbing, the light creeping in through the window like a lancet to the spot under his left eyebrow. 

“Because we're both outside and I think one of your neighbors thinks we're trying to case the joint for a robbery.” 

“You two are the most inconspicuous people… like, ever,” said Ryan, but he got out of bed carefully and shambled towards the door. It was late afternoon and the light was golden, like someone had painted over a camera lens. 

He shuffled towards his front door, and realized belatedly that he wasn't wearing a shirt. He blinked dozily at the door, then unlocked the two locks and stared at Shane and Sara. 

“Wow,” said Shane. “You look like shit.” He shouldered his way past Ryan, kicking his shoes off in the entryway, and Sara bustled in after him. 

“Ryan, when was the last time you showered?” Sara wrinkled her nose, crowding up close to him, and Ryan leaned into her, swaying. His head spun and his breath wheezed in his throat. 

“Um,” said Ryan. Shane was in his kitchen rattling things around, and Sara took him by the arm. 

“Come on,” said Sara, leading him towards the bathroom. 

“My head hurts,” Ryan said, and he squinted as she turned the light on in the bathroom. The light bounced off the white tile. 

“I gave you the plague, didn't I?” Sara's tone was sympathetic.

“Mine is in my chest,” said Ryan. He watched dully as she pulled her shirt off. “Why are you getting naked?”

“You were nice enough to shower with me,” Sara said, reaching behind herself to undo her bra. Ryan didn't even try to be subtle about his ogling. “I'll return the favor.”

“I'm gross,” Ryan said, and he meant it. His hair was greasy, his breath sour. There was dried sweat at his armpits, and all of him just felt… sticky. 

“Meh,” said Sara, wriggling out of her leggings and kicking them into a pile by the door, her panties going with them. “C’mon. Let’s get you showered.”

“I don’t want a shower,” Ryan said, aware that he sounded like a petulant child. His head hurt, and the idea of all those pinpricks of water striking against his skin made him want to die. 

“How about a bath? I’ll take a nice bath with you - you can totally fit in the bathtub with me.” Her hands were at his waist, untying the drawstring of his pajama pants and pushing them down. He would have been embarrassed, if he had it in him right now to care. 

“Okay,” said Ryan. “Fine. I can do that. But could we maybe turn the light off?” He rubbed his eyes. If he were a little less proud he might have put his face in her neck, or covered his eyes. His head hurt and his chest was tight, as if he was being held in a vice. The remnants of the cold medicine seemed to still be clouding his head, and everything felt as if it was happening a long way off. 

“Right,” said Sara, turning the light off and leaving the two of them in the dark except for the light filtering in from the hallway. Oh, that was better. Much better. He found the shape of her hips and rested his hands on them, his forehead against hers, their noses pressed together. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said quietly. “For all of this.”

“What, for dosing yourself up on cold medicine and then sleeping through fifteen text messages?” Sara draped her arms over Ryan’s shoulders, and her curly hair was ticklish against his forehead. “I forgive you.”

“For… I’m not being fun,” Ryan said, and then he pulled away from her, bent nearly double over the sink and coughing so hard that it _hurt_ , and then he spit something unpleasant down the drain. 

“Ryan, if I was only around for the fun bits I would’ve left the first time you put on a basketball game when you thought I was asleep on the couch,” Sara said, coming to stand behind him at the sink and putting her arms around his waist, her nose pressing into his shoulder blade.

That startled a laugh out of Ryan, which brought on more coughing - a wheezing, gasping cough that heated his face up, the pressure behind his eyes getting tight, his heartbeat loud in his ears. When Sara whapped him on the back, he coughed up something _else_ , and then he panted from the exertion. 

“C’mon,” said Sara. “Some steam will do you good. We can take a hot bath, Shane’ll get some dinner going, and then we can all cuddle up on the couch.” 

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?” Ryan croaked. He leaned against the sink, squinting in the dimness while he watched Sara turn the water on in the tub, check the temperature, adjust it, and then climb in and beckon for him to come in with her. 

“Nah,” said Sara. “I gave you this in the first place, so it’s only fair.” She had her arms open wide, and when he settled back against her with one leg bent, one over the edge, the tight muscles in his back began to relax. 

“What if we just trade it back and forth eternally, like a snake eating its own tail?” Ryan inhaled the steam coming off of the water to coat his face, and it swirled through his head. 

“We’ll have to give it to Shane at some point,” said Sara. “Y’know, to make it equal and whatnot.”

“We’ll feed it to him in bad hot dogs,” Ryan mumbled, and then he started to cough again. He was having more luck clearing his lungs, at least, but he needed to lean over to spit into the toilet. Sara held on to him, to keep him from falling over. 

“This is really getting you, huh?” Sara helped him sit back down, and she practically pasted herself to his back. Her small breasts were soft against his spine, her nose pointy on his neck.

“Yeah,” Ryan wheezed, and he sighed. “I'm… kinda wasted on cough syrup.”

“We'll get some real food in you,” Sara promised, then: “is it okay if we stay over?”

Ryan paused. Each of them had stayed over individually before, but never both at once. “I don't know if my bed is big enough,” he said honestly. 

“I can sleep on the couch if I have to,” Sara said blithely. Her hands ran across his belly, gently - it was almost enough to tickle. He knew she liked the feel of his muscles moving under his skin, but was this really the time?

His dick sure seemed to think so. He was already getting hard, the head of his cock rising out of the water like some kind of oceanic volcano. The back of Sara's hand brushed over it when she made a pass over his belly, and she snickered into his shoulder. 

“Do you just get horny every time I'm naked near you?” Her voice vibrated across his skin - making him itchy.

“Well, yeah,” said Ryan. “Obviously.” The arousal mixed in with the stuffy ache in his head, and with the way his chest was being squeezed. He was utterly at Sara's mercy right now - she could have jerked him off or held his head under the water, and he would have been okay with either. 

Wait, what?

Ryan did a mental double take, trying to get his thoughts in order. It was incredibly hard to do while Sara's knuckles kept brushing against the shaft of his cock. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to sort his thoughts out, but it was like trying to swim through molasses. 

Sara rotated her wrist and wrapped her fingers around his erection, stroking him gently. “I'm gonna take it as a compliment,” she said, her thumb under the head of his cock, her fingers trailing along the shaft. 

The pleasure slid up his back, mixing in with the confusion brought on by all the cold medicine. His heart beat in his dick, in his head, and everything was taking on a dreamlike quality. His cock pulsed in her hand, and her mouth was hot and wet against his neck, his shoulder, his back. 

Sara made a small, satisfied noise, and she moved her wrist faster, pulling Ryan towards an orgasm. That would probably be good - release all those endorphins, leave him more relaxed. So why was he so reluctant to come? He wanted to hold on to the arousal, wanted... what did he want?

"I don't want to come," Ryan said, as her thumb rubbed right under the head of his cock, right in the spot that always made his toes curl. “I don't want to come, please don't let me... oh, fuck, Sara..."

She pulled her hand away, resting it on his belly, and he trembled against her and breathed as deeply as he could without upsetting the tickle in his throat. Her breath was cool compared to the steamy air as it blew across his neck. "Why not?"

"Mmm?" Ryan went boneless against her, still shaking and breathing heavily. 

"Why don't you want to come?" Her hands were on his hips now, holding on tightly. Her nipples were hard against his back, and her sweat slid against him, mixing with his own and with the water and steam.

"What?" He leaned his head back onto her shoulder, sinking lower into the water, his knees emerging from the surface like a the mast of a shipwreck on a reef. The room spun around him, and he closed his eyes. It made the vertigo worse, but it was weirdly... nice. Like riding on a rollercoaster, only not.

"Why don't you want to come?" Sara repeated, and she nuzzled into his temple, her hands moving to his chest. 

"Oh," said Ryan. "Um." Why _did_ he not want to come? "I like... I like the anticipation," he said, which was mostly true. There were other parts that he didn't want to look too closely at right now, but that might have more to do with the headache than anything emotional. 

As far as he was concerned, at any rate.

"It's not like I'm gonna force an orgasm out of you or anything like that," said Sara, and Ryan's cock twitched against his belly. So some part of him liked that idea.

"Is that a thing that can be done?" Ryan hoped he sounded nonchalant. His voice was still a rough, croaking mess, and his eyes were shut tightly enough that he could almost hear his eyeballs moving against his eyelids.

"I mean," Sara said, her tone thoughtful, "I think just about _anything_ is a thing that can be done, if you try hard enough. But I don't think having you half out of your mind on cold medicine is the right time for it."

"I'm only, like, a quarter out of my mind on cold medicine," Ryan argued, and he giggled a little in spite of himself and then sat up to cough again until he was wheezing. His breath whistled in his throat, and wow, _that_ brought him back to being choked during sex, and when was the last time he'd done that?

There must have been something wrong with him, to be thinking about sex at a time like this. Was he some kind of creepy pervert, to be horny when he was this sick? Why did Sara and Shane even put up with him? They weren't going to stick around when they found out, and it was dumb to keep hiding from them. He was being selfish, letting them just waste their caring on him when they could be giving it to each other or to someone else who wasn't... well, him.

Distantly, Ryan was aware that he was being irrational and jumping... not even at shadows, he was jumping at the suggestions of shadows. But irrational panic was driving now, and Sara's hand was on his chest, right over his heart. She could probably feel it racing.

"Ryan?" Sara's voice was very gentle, and she was shifting, her legs squeezing around his, her face in his neck again. "Ryan, talk to me."

"You're gonna go," Ryan said, and his voice was very quiet. He wasn't looking at Sara, he wasn't looking at anything but the insides of his eyelids. He pulled away from her as much as he could, drawing in on himself. "You're gonna go, you deserve better than me, you're going to decide to -"

Sara's arms went around Ryan's middle, and she pulled him closer, rocking him. Sobbing echoed off of the tiled walls, and Ryan was a bit shocked to find that he was crying. It wasn't quiet crying, either - it was ugly, loud crying, and it made him cough which made him cry harder, his whole body curling tighter and tighter. It was like some obscene parody of an orgasm, painful and anxiety-inducing, and he cried like his heart was breaking. 

"I'm not going anywhere," Sara said quietly as she held him, and then his stomach lurched. 

Ryan wriggled his way out of her arms, nearly falling over as he climbed out of the tub to crouch in front of the toilet. He wrenched the seat up, and then he threw up, noisily, messily. His eyes and nose streamed, and he gagged as he vomited, acid burning his throat and mouth.

"Oh, honey," said Sara, and she was pressed against his back again, rubbing as he kept gagging, and then the light was on and Ryan could hear Shane's voice over the rushing in his ears.

"Everything okay in - oh." Shane sounded faintly nauseated. 

"Get out before you throw up too," Sara said, not unkindly. "I've got this."

"Thanks," said Shane, and then there was the sound of the door closing and hurried footsteps on the other side of the door. 

Ryan groaned, his head throbbing, his mouth and nose burning.

"Oh, honey," Sara said again, brushing Ryan's sweaty hair off of his forehead. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry," Ryan croaked. There were still tears tracking down his face, Were they from all of the feelings still boiling inside of him, or just from throwing up? He wasn't sure he wanted to figure it out. 

"What are you sorry for?" There was the sound of the faucet, and then Sara handed Ryan a glass of water. 

He looked at it, uncomprehending, then light dawned. He took a slug, wincing at just how tender his throat was. “I don’t know,” he said, which was a blatant lie.

“So why’d you say it?” She leaned into the counter, her arms crossed under her breasts. She was being both so very reasonable, and so very _naked_.

“I’m… I’m not a good third,” said Ryan, in a rush. He probably shouldn’t have said it, come to think of it. He should be more reassuring or… something. “I’m not a good third, I’m just making stuff difficult for you guys. You’re just gonna want to leave when you find out what a gross loser I am, and all of this just feels like delaying the inevitable.” He leaned back, the bathtub cold against his shoulder blades, and he pressed his face into his knees.

“So, first you thought that me and Shane were going to leave you because we’d get bored with you, or because we’d want a “normal” life?” The quotation marks around the “normal” were so obvious they practically clanged. “Now you think we’ll get grossed out by you?” She flushed the toilet, and it roared in the small space - Ryan winced, covering his ears.

“Something like that, yeah,” he said. Vomiting hadn’t done his voice any favors.

“Well,” Sara said, rocking on the heels of her feet and looking thoughtful, “the main thing I can see as being too gross for me to handle would be animal cruelty.” 

“I’m not ever going to do that!” He somehow managed to be righteously indignant, while naked on his own bathroom floor with vomit on his chin. He was faintly impressed with himself.

“I mean, racism, sexism, homophobia, all of that stuff as well,” Sara said thoughtfully. “If you’ve got relatives like that, that isn’t really your fault, so I wouldn’t leave you for that...” 

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Ryan said. Maybe he was just too headachey for this, or something.

“I’m trying to assuage your fears,” said Sara. “Since you seem to be convinced that I’m going to up and leave you. So I figured I’d just… tell you what’d make me up and leave you.” 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “I don’t think it’s, like… a rational fear.” He was doing more thinking than he probably should, come to think of it. He breathed carefully, because he was afraid he was going to throw up again. Was it because of feelings, or was he still sick? Who knew! Wasn’t it exciting?

Wow, he was on his way to hysterical if he was chasing his own tail like this. 

“What can I do to help you with it?” Sara stepped closer to him and ran her fingers through his hair. He rested his face on her thigh, sighing, some of the tension leaving his shoulders in spite of himself. She was so warm, so solid.

“I’ll keep you in the loop,” he said. “You and Shane.”

“Can you, like, tell us when you’re getting anxious about stuff?” One of her fingers traced over the curve of his ear, and it gave him goosebumps. 

“I’ll try to,” said Ryan, and he took a deep breath. Might as well go for full emotional honesty, right? “I… I’m kind of afraid, if I show you all the… gross bits of me, you’ll leave me or withdraw or… something like that.”

“I told you my deal breakers,” Sara said. “I’m sure I’ve got a few other ones, but we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

“What if I see a real ghost, and you and Shane don’t believe me?” Ryan looked up at her, and tried not to blush too hard. From this angle, he could see all of her. His dick, which had gone soft when he’d been throwing up, perked right up again. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, too,” Sara said in a soothing tone of voice. “Which will be never, because ghosts don’t exist,” she added, because she was Sara and certain things couldn’t be left alone.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but his expression was fond.

“But seriously,” Sara said. “We’re not going anywhere. You don’t need to keep expecting us to just desert you because you throw up or have a lot of feelings or whatever.” She crouched down in front of him, cupping his cheek, and he pressed his face into her palm. “Okay?”

He sighed, a long, gusty sigh. She wrinkled her nose - his breath probably didn’t smell too good. “Okay,” he said quietly. Some of the knot in the pit of his stomach was beginning to loosen. Maybe all that vomiting was good for something after all. 

“You think you’d be up for a quick rinse off, brushing your teeth, then hanging out on the couch?” 

Ryan gave a nod, wincing when even that jostled his sore head. 

* * *

Ryan brushed his teeth, rinsed off in the shower (it was unpleasant, but over quickly), and dried off, carefully. He put on a clean pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, and then he flopped onto the couch, leaning into Shane.

Shane always looked at home on Ryan’s couch, but Shane was good at looking at home wherever he was - he sprawled out with his feet on the coffee table, his hands behind his head. There was some innocuous movie on, and he had a blanket draped across his legs. 

“You look slightly less like death warmed over,” said Shane, lifting his arm up so Ryan could fit into his side. “Feel better?”

“I think I coughed up -”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” said Shane. “If you continue that sentence, I may start imagining it and then I’ll throw up, and then you’d have to have your couch cleaned.” 

“That’d suck,” Ryan said, his voice drowsy. “Never had to have a couch cleaned.” Shane’s arm was wrapped tightly around him, pressing them close, knee to knee.

“I feel like that’s one of those adult things that you gotta do at least once,” said Shane, his fingers sliding through Ryan’s hair. “Like making your own doctor’s appointment, or filing your own taxes.” 

“We’ve got TurboTax for that these days,” Ryan said, and he yawned. 

“No sleeping yet,” Shane said, and he nudged Ryan in the side. ”C’mon. I ordered dinner. We’ll eat something, _then_ you can sleep.” 

“I want to keep sleeping,” Ryan said, and he snuggled in closer to listen to the steady thrum of Shane’s heart.

“You’ve been sleeping literally all day,” said Shane. His fingers were gentle in Ryan’s hair, twisting it between the pads of his fingers. 

“Not true,” Ryan retorted. “I got up to pee at least twice.”

“Good to know,” said Shane. “Otherwise we’d have to do a lot more laundry.” 

“Maybe I’ve got the bladder of a colossus,” said Ryan. “Didja think of that?” 

“The Colossus was a giant statue.” said Shane. “It didn’t have a bladder. And there was only one of it.” 

“What’s the only one of it have to do with anything?” Ryan held on to Shane’s shirt, his eyes at half-mast. 

“It’d be _the_ Colossus, not _a_ Colossus.” 

“You’re such a pedantic asshole,” Ryan groused. 

“You knew that when you started this whole business,” said Shane. “Too late now.” 

Ryan’s stomach twisted pleasantly. It was like being on a rollercoaster in freefall - strapped in, secure, but as close as possible to dying while still being alive. “I love you,” he blurted out, and then he _was_ in freefall, no harness, no nothing. He had just ruined everything, he’d - 

“Love you too, Ry,” said Shane, as casual as anything. As if it were just a thing that was said. 

“What are we watching?” Sara came in, her curly hair still damp. She was wearing a pair of Ryan’s basketball shorts and one of his t-shirts. 

“I have no fuckin’ idea,” said Ryan. His heart was beating very loudly in his ears; he’d said what had been on the back of his tongue. He’d just… said it. It was said. It was out in the air. If they were in a comic, the speech bubble would probably still be over their heads. 

“You’re no help,” Sara said, and then she sat down on the couch next to Ryan.

“I could’ve sworn you left some leggings in the drawer I cleared out for you,” Ryan said as she laid her head on his chest, her curly hair catching on some of his stubble. 

“Your stuff is comfy,” said Sara, tucking her legs up under herself, her knees against her stomach and her toes against the backs of her thighs. 

“If you say so,” Ryan said, and he yawned again, bracketed between the two of them. Then he started coughing, because his stupid body had to ruin the moment. But it was the thought that counted, right? 

Shane made a sympathetic noise and rubbed his back, and Ryan wheezed and leaned back into the cushions. “I hate this,” Ryan mumbled. 

“We’ll have some good food for ya soon,” Shane said. “It'll do ya good.”

“You sound so Midwestern,” Sara said, and she reached over to poke Shane in the side. 

Shane's fingers curled into the thin hair at the back of Ryan's neck. 

_What if I were wearing a collar? He could slide his fingers right under it and tug_ , flashed through Ryan's mind, and he flushed. God, he was getting kinky. 

“You okay, Ryan?” Sara pressed her hand against his forehead. “You're all flushed.”

Ryan was saved by a knock at the door. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved. 

* * *

There was roast duck soup for Ryan. He looked at it, surprised. “You remembered?”

“Yep,” Shane said cheerfully as he poured it into a bowl. 

“Oh,” Ryan said. 

“Shane is thoughtful like that,” said Sara as she dug into her beef lo mein. “He always remembers that stuff.”

Ryan slurped up a thick, wide noodle, the duck greasy and juicy in his mouth, the broth hot and soothing as it went down his throat. He sighed, zoning out a bit as Sara and Shane snarked about whatever it was that they were watching. Their voices washed over him like waves, and he sank into them like a hot bath. 

* * *

They woke Ryan up at some point, gave him a shot of cough syrup, and ushered him to bed. Sara climbed in with him while Shane washed dishes. The clinks and splashes from the kitchen were soothing, and so was the rise and fall of Sara's chest as he rested his head on her breast. She combed her fingers through his hair as she read something on her phone. He drifted, probably due to all the cough medicine. But one thing niggled at his mind. “Hey, Sara?”

“Mm?”

“...I was wondering. Could you maybe… I mean, if it's not too weird, would you be willing and okay with...” He trailed off.

“With?”

“Reading to me,” Ryan mumbled, embarrassed and utterly clueless as to why. 

"Of course," said Sara. "What would you like me to read?" 

There were more clinkings from the kitchen, and what sounded like Shane humming to himself. The whole apartment was filled with noise, but not the raucous noise of a party or a guest. It felt lived in. The both of them slotted into his home almost perfectly - slotted into his _life_ almost perfectly. 

Ryan yawned, his eyes closed. "W-whatever," he said. "I like hearing your voice."

"I'm reading a fantasy novel," she told him, "but I'm not that far into it. You want me to start from the beginning?" She fiddled with her phone - looking for the book, he guessed. 

"Sure," Ryan said, although he wasn't paying much attention. Her voice resonated through her chest, which made it deeper. It vibrated through his head. His mouth still tasted like cough syrup, and everything was taking on a dreamy tinge, as if he was looking at it through smoke. He was full of a lot of feelings of some kind, but he wasn't sure what all of them were. 

"There are a number of smells one expects to encounter in a dungeon," Sara read, as one of her hands went to Ryan's head, petting him the same way she petted Obi. "Fresh rosemary generally isn't one of them." 

Ryan drifted in and out, paying more attention to the rise and fall of Sara's voice than anything she was actually saying. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing, and her breast was soft against his cheek. She smelled a little like him - like his laundry detergent and soap - but also like herself. If he could smell things, maybe he was getting better? 

At some point the bed dipped down on his other side, and then Shane sprawled out next to him, one hand resting on Ryan's belly, his fingers spread out. He had taken his pants off and was wearing one of Ryan's shirts just like Sara - _is this what true polyamory is? Endless laundry because everyone steals your clothes?_ \- his long, bare legs stretched out for miles and miles over the covers. 

It was a tight squeeze. Ryan was practically on top of Sara, and Shane barely fit.

"I need to get a bigger bed," Ryan mumbled, when there was a lull in Sara's reading.

Shane snorted, giving Ryan a squeeze. 

"Don't worry about it," Sara told him, her hand on his cheek.

He took her hand in his own and kissed her palm. "Thanks for... all of this," he said, still hazy. 

"Your voice is ticklish," she told him, her thumb outlining the bow of his upper lip.

"I love you," he said, in that hazy place between sleep and waking, the room spinning from all the cold medicine.

"Love you too," Sara said, and she kissed his forehead. 

He sighed, his eyes finally fluttering closed as Shane squeezed him tighter. He was suspended between the two of them like a fly in amber, and he never wanted the moment to end. 

* * *

They stayed with him for two days. He ate a lot of soup, drank a lot of tea, and gradually got better. Shane went home to feed the cat, Sara ran home to get clean underwear. They didn't seem to want to leave him alone. 

Maybe they'd had a palaver about his abandonment issues or something like that. Regardless, he wasn't complaining too hard - it was nice to have the company. By the time Monday rolled around he felt like a human being again, and not like a coughing, headachy, snot volcano. He went to work, and life felt normal. 

But also... not. There was a new intimacy with Shane and Sara, an intimacy that he didn't entirely understand, but he wasn't going to complain about. He held Sara's hand under a breakroom table, he gave Shane a peck on the top of the head when he went to get coffee in the mornings. 

Nobody noticed, but then again, it was Buzzfeed. People were always a mix of self-obsessed and super observant. Someone would probably say something at some point and it would be weird and awkward, because things at Buzzfeed were always weird and awkward at some point or another. For now, he was going to enjoy himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The book Sara is reading to Ryan is _Clockwork Boys_ by T. Kingfisher. Excellent book, highly recommend it!


	5. Chapter 5

About a month and a half after Ryan got sick, he went over to Shane and Sara's place. He'd gone over before that, or they'd come to his - date nights, hang-out nights, "we're having a movie marathon and can't agree on what to watch, come break the tie" nights. This particular night was quiet - just him and Shane, as Sara was off carousing with some of her art friends. Ryan assumed it was carousing, at any rate. He'd met a few of them and they all seemed like nice enough people, but not necessarily the carousing type. 

Obi was on top of a closed pizza box on the coffee table, leeching warmth from the leftovers inside while tucked up in a little cat loaf. Shane fiddled with his phone as some dumb Netflix horror movie played in the background. Ryan, full of pizza and beer, kind of wanted to go into a carbohydrate-induced coma, kind of wanted to start making out with Shane. It was a good place to be, all things considered. 

"Hey, Ryan?" There was a slightly anxious note to Shane's voice, and Ryan glanced up, anxiety beginning to prickle down his spine.

"What's up?" Ryan stretched out on the couch, putting one foot in Shane's lap.

Shane grabbed Ryan's other ankle, hauling both of Ryan's feet into his lap. "So you know how I, uh... how I told my mom that you're coming over for Thanksgiving?" 

"Yeah?" Ryan's stomach plummeted. Shane was going to rescind the invitation, tell him that it was a mistake, that they had to slow down -

"I need to iron out a date for when we go to Illinois," said Shane, interrupting Ryan's internal screaming.

"What?" That came out of left field.

"I know Thanksgiving is in a few months," said Shane, "but if I wanna get us a cheap flight I need to start wrangling all of that _now_." 

"Oh," said Ryan. 

"And," Shane plunged on, possibly misreading the confusion on Ryan's face for... who even knew what, "well, I was thinking that since you haven't ever actually been to my hometown, maybe you could, uh... you could stay for a few days, maybe meet a few people." 

“Oh,” Ryan said again, and then, because he had to know, “you mean as, uh… as your...”

“As my boyfriend,” Shane finished the sentence for Ryan. “Yeah.” He was turning a little pink in the cheeks and up towards his temples. “If you’d, uh, if you’d be okay with that.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, “I’d be good with that.” This all felt like new territory - him, being brought home. “And Sara will be there too?”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” said Shane. “Although everyone’s met her already, so I think you’ll be the new, exciting person to meet.”

“You sure it won’t be the fact that you’ve got a boyfriend now?” Ryan curled his toes against Shane’s wrist. 

“I’ve had one before,” Shane said. “Not… at the same time as having a girlfriend, but you’re not the first guy I’ve brought home.”

“Oh,” said Ryan. He was beginning to sound like a broken record, wasn’t he? 

“So… have you talked to your folks about your plans? Are you still… up to with coming with me?” Shane bit his lip. 

“No,” Ryan said, and he pressed his face into his hands and groaned. “I should do that.” He peeked at Shane through his fingers. “I’m gonna tell them… y’know, about you and Sara.”

“Right,” said Shane. He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with one big hand. “I don’t suppose they know already? Not about, uh… about us, but about you being polyamorous or not straight.”

“They know about the not-straight,” said Ryan. “Not so much the polyamorous.” He sighed, leaning into the cushions of the couch. “This’ll be… interesting.”

“You worried about backlash?” Shane kneaded Ryan’s feet - his thumbs dug into the arch, the tips of his fingers on the top of Ryan’s foot, amongst all the fiddly little bones there. 

“Not... backlash,” Ryan said, and he sighed again, rubbing his face with both hands. “Just having to explain it. I know they’ll be understanding once I explain it. But the explaining will take some time, and it'll be awkward as hell.”

“Well,” said Shane, “if you need help with that, I’ll be happy to.”

“I may just drag you guys along one weekend,” Ryan said, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “It might make life easier.”

“Could you maybe give them a bit of a heads-up first? Maybe?” Shane laughed nervously. “I don’t want your parents to have to absorb the shock that you’re dating two people, that one of those people is a dude -”

“You forgot that you’re a white dude,” Ryan said.

“What, would that be a problem?” Shane looked surprised. 

“Not a problem,” Ryan said, “but it would kinda… compound the shock.”

“Right,” said Shane. “I guess it doesn’t help that I’m funny looking.”

Ryan grinned in spite of himself. “They’d think it was all a scam if you were too good looking,” he told Shane. “That you were trying to get into my vast family fortune or something.”

“You’ve got a vast family fortune? Why wasn’t I made aware of this?” Shane slid a finger between Ryan’s toes, and Ryan squeezed it. 

“If _two_ gorgeous people were fawning all over me, they’d smell a rat,” asid Ryan. 

“So you’re not denying the vast family fortune,” Shane pointed out. “And yeah, no, Sara is a stunner, and I look like a sloth.” 

“A very attractive sloth,” Ryan protested.

“But still a sloth.” 

“So,” Ryan said, “I’m going to call my parents, we can… probably go after that.” He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. His head was already starting to spin. 

“You want some moral support?” 

“Nah,” said Ryan. “Or I might be tempted to do the thing that you did, and just shove the phone at you and hightail it outta there.”

“Now wait just a second,” Shane protested. “I didn’t _hightail_ it out of there!”

Ryan snorted, giving Shane a Look.

Shane gave him one back, and he squeezed Ryan’s ankle in his big hand. “So you’re gonna officially be out to your parents, huh?”

“Yep,” said Ryan. “They’re good people, It’ll be awkward as balls for a few months, and then it’ll be normal. It helps that they know you, so it’s not just some random dude from a bar or whatever.” 

“Right,” said Shane. “My parents are going to work so hard to be understanding and it’ll be weird and awkward, but they’ve got good intentions. And yeah, it helps that you’re not just a random Tinder date.”

“Wouldn’t I be a Grindr date, not a Tinder one?” Ryan sighed as Shane’s fingers slid across the top of his foot. 

“I’m honestly not sure,” said Shane. “I’m bad at dating.”

“Big guy, we’re literally tying ourselves in knots trying to tell everyone that we’re dating,” Ryan said.

“Well, yeah,” said Shane. “But that’s not _dating_ , that’s… y’know. We found each other. We met each other without trying to date. We just knew each other, and then started sleeping together.” 

“Other stuff happened,” Ryan protested. “You antagonized a whole bunch of demons -”

“I talked to a bunch of air,” Shane interrupted.

“We had near-death experiences in haunted houses,” Ryan said. 

“They weren’t near-death experiences, or haunted houses. Unless you count all the mold and rat shit we’ve probably absorbed.” 

“Absorbed,” Ryan said. “As if we’re fuckin’... toads, breathing through our skin.”

“Toads breathe through their skin? I thought that was just frogs.” Shane looked intrigued.

“Yeah, no, toads breathe through their skin. And we’re not toads, so we don’t,” said Ryan. 

“So now who’s being a pedantic asshole, huh?” Shane’s tone belied his fondness.

“We can’t both be pedantic assholes al the time,” Ryan said. “Otherwise there’d be too much pedantic asshole in the world. There’d be a surplus, maybe an overflow. We gotta trade it off. Share the load.” 

“Are you referencing _Pacific Rim_?” Shane's expression that was somewhere between amused and scandalized. 

“I might be,” Ryan said. “Maybe.”

Shane snorted, and then his expression softened. “So… you’re ready to buy plane tickets?” 

“Let me tell my mom about how I’m not gonna be going to Thanksgiving this year,” said Ryan. “Maybe introduce you to her as my partners. Then we can go from there.” 

“Right,” said Shane. “Sounds like a plan. I'd really like to kiss you right now.”

“So what's stopping you?”

“I dunno,” Shane said. “Wanted to see if it was the right moment.”

“What would make it the right moment?” Ryan tugged Shane closer, until Shane was leaning in, his forehead against Ryan's. “A big ol’ blinking arrow or something?” 

“Something like that, yeah,” said Shane. His hand was on Ryan's face, his thumb on Ryan's lower lip. 

Ryan sucked Shane's thumb into his mouth, swiping his tongue along the tip, then letting Shane push it in deeper. He hollowed his cheeks out, keeping eye contact with Shane, and Shane shuddered. 

“Y’know something I’ve noticed?” Shane’s finger swiped over Ryan’s upper lip, rasping through the beginnings of Ryan’s stubble.

“Mm?” Ryan ran his tongue along the back of Shane’s knuckle, pressing the very tip of it into the wrinkled skin. 

“You’re a very giving lover,” Shane said. He inched closer, and then he… settled on the floor in front of Ryan, between Ryan’s spread legs. “I’ve got a theory about that.”

“What do you mean, you have a theory? Some people are just givers.” Anxiety was beginning to climb up Ryan’s throat, although why the fuck was that happening? 

“I have a theory,” Shane repeated, and he put his hand on the back of Ryan’s head, pulling Ryan forward. He kissed him on the mouth, soft and sweet, his tongue against Ryan’s, then against his teeth and along the inside of his cheeks. He pulled back, breathing heavily, and looked at Ryan with big, dark eyes. “I have a theory,” he repeated.

“What’s your theory?” Ryan was shaking, and wasn’t sure how to make it stop. He had his hands on Shane’s shoulders, and he held on tightly, wrinkling the fabric of Shane’s shirt. 

“I have a theory that you’re such a giver because you don’t want to be disappointed,” said Shane. His tone was very earnest, but something about it made Ryan flush and press forward for another kiss.This kiss messier, deep and sloppy. 

Ryan pulled Shane as close as they could get, with Shane on the floor, and they breathed each other’s breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, which was a flagrant lie. 

“Yeah, you do,” said Shane, holding Ryan’s face in those big hands of his. “C’mon. We’re at the meet the parents stage. Let’s at least be honest with each other.” His face was very soft as he looked into Ryan’s eyes. “Be selfish, Ryan.”

“No,” Ryan said. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say, but outright disagreeing hadn’t been it.

“You’re not gonna ensure that I’m gonna stay around forever just by being complacent and agreeable,” Shane said, his voice rough. 

“Why would you think that I think that?” Ryan blushed hotly, his heartbeat very loud in his ears. 

“Because I’m not stupid, Ryan,” said Shane, and then they were kissing again, wet, desperate kissing. Ryan was trying to shut Shane up, because there was a time and a place for deep psychological realizations (as presented by Shane), and this wasn’t it.

“I’m not saying you are,” Ryan said against Shane’s lips, and he clung to Shane’s hair, pressing closer until their mouths were together again. Shane pulled back, looking at Ryan with an expression that bordered on insulted. 

“If you’re not saying it, why are you treating me like I am?” Shane kissed along the line of Ryan’s jaw to the spot where Ryan’s pulse was hammering. He nipped it, then kissed it open-mouthed, his tongue darting out against the grain of Ryan’s stubble. 

“I’m not,” Ryan protested weakly. He looked right into Shane’s eyes, and Shane looked into his. It was… intense, the kind of intense eye contact out of a romance novel, or maybe a certain type of movie. 

“Let’s play a game,” said Shane, and then he sat back on his heels, his hands going to Ryan’s inner thighs and forcing them open. 

“A game,” Ryan echoed. “How kinky of you.” There was a bit of a tremble in his voice, and his cock was already beginning to throb, pressing up against his thigh.

“What, I can’t be kinky?” Shane raised an eyebrow, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping Ryan’s jeans. 

“I never said that,” Ryan said weakly. He groaned as Shane released his cock, the cool air against the hot head, then hissed as Shane’s fingers delicately felt along his length. 

“Well,” said Shane, “here’s an idea. How about you tell me what you want, and if I think you’re telling the truth, I’ll keep touching you. And if I don’t, I’ll stop.” It was so _reasonable_ when he said it like that. It sounded so perfectly normal, so perfectly natural. Like it was just a thing you _did_. 

“I want you to touch me,” said Ryan, which was true.

“I’m already touching you,” said Shane. “That doesn’t count.”

“You’re a jerk,” Ryan groused. “The worst jerk in the world.” 

“I am,” Shane said. “Tell me what you want. Now, or… in general.”

“I want… I want you to suck my cock,” Ryan said, and this was embarrassing. Why was it embarrassing? He’d asked for this in the past. What the fuck? 

“Yeah?” Shane leaned forward and kissed along the side of Ryan’s cock - dainty, almost _delicate_ kisses, leaving little dips and dabs of sensation shivering along his nerves. “When?”

“Now?” Ryan swallowed, and his throat clicked. “And… and when we’re in the shower.”

“Yeah?” Shane extended his tongue and licked along the ridge of Ryan’s cock. “Tell me more about that.”

“I want to suck you off in -”

“No,” Shane interrupted, and he sat back on his heels again, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“What? You said to tell you what I want.” 

“I said to be selfish,” Shane said. “So… nothing about doing things to me, about doing things to Sara. It’s all about you. Okay?” He pushed Ryan’s shirt up, his hands running along the flat planes of Ryan’s stomach. 

“Why?” Ryan licked his lips, digging his toes into the carpet.

“Because I don’t know what goes on in that peanut head of yours,” said Shane. “All you ever talk about is how you want to make _me_ feel good, how you want to make Sara feel good. But I want to know what you want to feel good. What makes you feel good.” His eyes were almost… pleading, and it was so very different from his tone. “I want… I want you to know you’re not just a conduit for other people.” 

“Oh,” Ryan said. That was… that was a lot. “I… I’ll try. I don’t know if I’ll, uh… if I’ll be any good at it.”

“Only way to get good is to keep doing it,” said Shane. “Now… tell me what you want.”

“I want you to suck my dick,” Ryan said again, unsteadily. “I want… I want you to suck my dick in the shower. I want you to… to just do it, don’t ask me, just… mmm, Shane...”

It was the _tidiest_ blowjob Ryan had ever gotten - there wasn’t any drool, any excess spit. It was just Shane’s mouth on his cock with just enough wetness to make it glide past Shane’s lips. Shane’s tongue traced along the sensitive spot just under the head, then he withdrew, the head of Ryan’s cock balanced on his lower lip. “Well,” he said. 

“W-well?” Ryan was shaking. He wanted… what did he want? He wanted to put his hand on the back of Shane’s head and thrust up into Shane’s mouth. He wanted Shane to stand up, unzip, and use Ryan’s mouth like a fleshlight. He wanted… he didn’t know what he wanted, but he wanted more of it. 

“Tell me another one,” said Shane. “What’s something… what’s something you’ve never told me before?” His fingers were just barely touching Ryan’s cock, but it was enough to make Ryan squirm, his hands in his own hair, his head thrown back. 

“Like, a… a sex thing, or a thing-thing?” Ryan licked his lips.

“I dunno,” said Shane. “What do you feel like sharing?” 

“Even though my dad is a dentist, I’m afraid of dentists,” Ryan blurted out. 

Shane paused, and he looked up at Ryan. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?” Ryan kept twisting his fingers in his hair. 

“I have no idea,” said Shane. “Tell me a sex thing.”

“You’re a bossy son of a gun, aren’t you?” Ryan relaxed into the couch, keeping his eyes on Shane’s. 

“Son of a gun? What are you, a cowboy?” Another stroke, gentle as the morning sun on the carpet. Shane dabbed at the pre-come drooling out of Ryan’s cock, spreading it along his length. 

“I’m… distracted,” Ryan said. “I dunno. I’ve told you a lot of sex things. It can be hard to keep track of them.” 

“Do it anyway,” said Shane. “If you repeat yourself I’ll… think of something.”

“I’d like you to… can you please… some day, I want you to...” What did he _want_? Did he even know what he wanted? The flickers of things that he jerked off to went through his head, but most of them were about him doing things to Shane, and Shane had said none of that. It was monumentally difficult to just… do this. He wasn’t sure why he was freaking out, but he was. 

“Yes?” More light fingertips on his cock. 

“Fuck me… fuck me first thing in the morning,” Ryan said. “Wake me when… when it’s all g-g-golden, and then you can… you can ride my dick, I love how your… how your ass feels around me, I want it first thing, I… please!” Ryan wasn’t even _thinking_ as he said it, he was just letting the words pour out of him organically.

Shane gave a pleased little hum, leaning forward and kissing along the length of Ryan’s cock again, his hand wrapping around the base of it. “When you’re all drowsy and smell like sleep?” His breath was ticklish all along the sensitive skin. 

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “I want you to just… to just roll me over. I want you to… to...” His hips rolled forward in spite of himself, but Shane’s head moved back so Ryan’s cock more or less stayed in the same place in Shane’s mouth. 

“Mmm,” Shane agreed. He sucked and licked, but it was like someone in a white suit eating an ice cream cone. It was all so _neat_ , and something about it was driving Ryan crazy. 

Maybe the fact that Ryan hadn’t actually gotten off in almost two weeks - he’d start to masturbate and find that he wanted to just… hold on to that feeling. The _it’s-almost-there_ anticipation that filled his whole body like water in a glass. He liked the tight little ball of heat sinking into his stomach, the way he felt more alive, more aware of everything. 

He was already getting close, and he… what did he want?

“Use me,” Ryan blurted out. “Use me to make you feel good, use my cock or my ass or my mouth or my hands, do whatever you want to me, I’m… oh my fucking god, _Shane_! I… I love you, Shane, please don’t leave me, please don’t go, I love you, I want you to stay, I don’t want to ever… stop...” 

Shane took Ryan into his throat. He sucked, his tongue swirling and twitching against the sensitive parts of Ryan’s cock, and his hands went to Ryan’s hips, kneading them. He sucked, and the heat and tightness was enough to make Ryan sob like his heart was breaking. 

Ryan was having a lot of feelings. Sex didn’t usually bring out all of his feelings, but Shane was apparently getting good at it. Go figure. “I don’t want to come,” he said in a rush, because it was building like the orgasm in his gut, and if he didn’t let it out he might explode. “I don’t want to come, don’t let me come, don’t make me come, please, I don’t -”

Shane pulled off of Ryan’s cock and wrapped his fist around it, pumping with quick, efficient strokes. “Why?” 

“W-w-what?” Ryan’s hips rocked forward, and he dug his nails into his palms to distract him from his impending orgasm, which hung over him like the blade of a guillotine. 

“Why don’t you want to come?” More strokes, harder this time, and Shane twisted his wrist and rubbed with his thumb, right under the head, along Ryan's circumcision scar. 

“I don’t know,” Ryan whined, and yeah, that was a full-on whine. He’d have been embarrassed, but the orgasm was clawing its way up his back like an angry cat. 

“Why don’t you know?” Shane twisted his wrist, and more of Ryan’s pre-come pooled against his palm. He spread it along Ryan’s shaft.

“I don’t… Shane, fuck, if you don’t stop I’ll...” Ryan didn’t get to finish his sentence because his orgasm landed on him, cutting him in half, and he cried out as his hips jerked forward. He fucked Shane’s fist, and his cock spurted across Shane’s knuckles, the back of his hand. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Shane said, stroking Ryan through it until Ryan shoved his hand away, still trembling. “There you go.”

“I… fuck,” Ryan mumbled. “Can I… can I suck you off, can you fuck my face?” The anticipation in his belly was still there, somehow - it wasn’t the same arousal that had been pulling at him like a rope around his neck, but it was still… it was still _there_. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, and glory of glories, he stood up - he stood up and put his hands on Ryan’s face, spreading Ryan's thick, sticky come there. “God, Ry, your _face_.”

“Yeah?” Ryan nuzzled into Shane’s hand and then kissed his palm, his tongue darting out to taste his own come. It was bitter, salty, and he wrinkled his nose but kept doing it. 

At some point, Shane’s cock came out. Ryan wasn’t paying much attention to anything but the fingers in his mouth until they withdrew. Then the blunt, wet head of Shane’s cock was pressing against his lips. He moaned when Ryan opened his mouth, and he slid in like a snake in a burrow. 

“God, Ryan, your fucking _mouth_ ,” Shane groaned, his hands in Ryan’s hair (which, okay, gross, but whatever, he’d shower), and then it was just… happening. The sensation of Shane’s cock on the back of his throat, the way Shane’s belly pressed into his nose, the satisfying disgustingness of feeling Shane in his throat. 

Ryan swallowed around the thickness, and he tried not to drool too much - he just let his face be fucked, enjoying the anticipation and wanting that gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He wished he hadn’t come - he wished that he was still hard and aching, wished he had the proof for Shane to see just how much he liked it. The way Shane’s stiff, hot cock was proof of how badly Shane wanted him. Ryan wasn’t even doing much work - he sucked, letting Shane’s hand in his hair do all the guiding, and when he could remember he’d wriggle his tongue or do soft, wet things with his lips. Mostly it was about being a hot, wet hole for Shane to fuck - it was all he wanted to be right now. 

In what seemed like no time at all, Shane went stiff - so stiff - and then he pulled his cock out, holding on to it tightly. “On your face or in your mouth?” Shane said, and his voice cracked.

“W-what?” Ryan’s voice cracked too, and his lips were swollen. 

“On your face or in your mouth,” Shane repeated. “Where d’you want me to come?”

“Wherever you want to,” Ryan said in a rush. “Please!”

“Not an answer,” Shane said, and he rubbed the wet head of his cock against Ryan’s face, spreading spit and pre-come. “Try again.”

“In my mouth,” Ryan said, because he’d already tasted his own semen, so why not swallow Shane’s? Or maybe he was just crazy with all the arousal coursing through him, an arousal that seemed to transcend his cock, transcend his very _body_ , to mist up the air around them. 

“Good,” said Shane, and his thumb and index finger dug into the hinges of Ryan’s jaw as Ryan opened his mouth wider. Then Shane’s cock was as deep as it could get, and Ryan was gagging around it as Shane’s hips pumped twice, three times, and...

Ryan groaned as Shane’s come shot down his throat, swallowing it clumsily, a bit of it spilling down his chin. He let Shane shove him back, and he leaned back against the couch cushions and looked up at Shane with wide eyes. 

“Fuck,” Shane said, and then he sat on the couch next to Ryan, one arm thrown over his eyes. “Holy fuck.”

“Is that… is that good?” Ryan licked his lips - his mouth was nothing but bitterness and salt. He needed to drink some water, maybe brush his teeth. 

“Oh yeah,” said Shane. “It was amazing.” He squeezed Ryan’s knee and leaned into Ryan’s shoulder, his eyes half-shut. “We should shower,” he said. 

“Oh yeah,” said Ryan. “Especially before we go see my parents.”

That startled a laugh out of Shane, and that… that was better than the orgasm. Then Shane grabbed Ryan’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “Was I, uh… was I too mean?” He looked nervous.

“No,” said Ryan. “No, you were… you were great.” 

“You wanna talk about the whole “don’t let me come” thing?” Shane’s voice was gentle.

“Another time?” Ryan licked his lips. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” said Shane, and he lifted Ryan’s hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Can we talk about it at some point?”

“We can,” Ryan promised, “but let’s get all the… parental stuff done first.”

“Right,” said Shane. “It sounds like a plan. A good one, even.”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Ryan said, and he leaned forward to give Shane a peck on the mouth.

Shane pecked him back. “Any time,” he said cheerfully.

Ryan rolled his eyes, but he grinned. 

* * *

Ryan called his mother the next afternoon. He called her on his lunch break, because at least in theory, then he could say “hey, I’ve got to go back to work” and he could escape. In practice, it meant he was wandering around the patio of the Buzzfeed offices talking quietly about intense, personal things.

“So… I won’t be home for Thanksgiving this year,” he said, once the pleasantries had gotten through.

“Why not?” His mother was doing… something with her hands. It sounded like she was knitting. There was a subtle click-click-click. 

“I’m… I’m seeing someone,” he said, “and they… and _he_ told his mother that I’d be going to Thanksgiving with him.” 

“Well,” said his mother after a moment, “as long as you’ll be here for Christmas. You can bring him, too.”

“There’s, uh… there’s two people,” said Ryan, taking the plunge. It felt like dunking into icy water, too, coldness moving from his ankles up towards his shoulders. 

“What?” The clicking stopped.

“I’m seeing two people. We’re, uh… we’re a triad. A throuple.” Silence on the other end of the line. “You remember Shane? He and I are dating. And me and Sara - I don’t think you’ve met Sara. And he and Sara. They’re dating, too.” 

“Oh,” said his mother. More quiet, then; “how do her parents feel about Thanksgiving?” It sounded like she was grasping at straws. 

“I… don’t know,” said Ryan. That wasn’t what he’d expected. “Can I come over on Saturday? I’ll, uh… I’ll bring them. You guys could get to know each other.” 

“Sure,” said his mother. She sounded dazed. “I’ll bake a cake.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ryan said quickly. 

“No, no, I have a new recipe,” said his mother. “Looking forward to seeing you on Saturday. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom,” said Ryan. “I have to, uh, get back to work.”

“Have a good day,” she said, and then she hung up. 

“Oh god,” Ryan said to the empty air. “I’m so fucked.” 

* * *

“Wait, this Saturday?” Sara was sitting on the couch, her feet tucked up under her and Obi draped across her shoulders.

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “You, uh… you didn't have any plans, did you?” He reached out to rest his hand on top of her head, his fingers sinking into her curly hair. It was springy against his palm.

“Nah,” said Sara. “Was planning on sleeping in, maybe having some good sex.” 

“I hope I’m invited,” said Shane, coming to sit next to them. 

“To your own house, to have sex in your own bed.” Ryan’s tone was deadpan as he pressed his knee against Shane’s. 

“We might be in your bed,” Sara pointed out. 

“We can’t all fit in my bed,” said Ryan. He rested a hand on Shane’s knee, squeezing it. 

“Our bed is your bed,” Shane said, and that startled Ryan into stillness. 

“What?”

“Our bed. It’s your bed, too,” said Shane, and he made eye contact with Sara, who was blushing, but she was nodding as well. 

“We still need to get you a key,” Sara added. 

“Are you worried we’re moving a bit… y’know, fast?” He’d never done this before. He didn’t know how he felt about all of this, but it was a nice kind of terrifying. 

“We’ve been friends for a long time,” said Shane. “It’s not like it’s… sudden.”

“Right,” said Ryan. “Okay. right.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat and he took each of their hands in his, fingers interlaced. 

There was a beat, then; “what do I wear?” Sara sounded sheepish. 

“What?”

“What do I wear?” Sara repeated. “Like… for a family thing. A family thing with your family.” 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “Uh. Normal clothes?” 

“Right,” said Sara. “Thanks.” She patted him on the head and then laughed as Obi crawled into Ryan’s lap, rubbing his head against Ryan’s stomach.

Ryan sighed, rubbing Obi’s ears, then moving lower to scratch along his spine to the spot right over his tail that always made him dig all his claws in with bliss. Ryan was very glad to be wearing denim. 

“Look at it this way,” said Shane. “It’ll be good practice for when you meet my parents, right? In the boyfriend capacity, I mean.”

“Boyfriend capacity sounds like carrying capacity,” said Sara. “Like there’s a maximum amount of boyfriend you’re allowed to have.”

“I think you’ve hit that, personally,” said Ryan. “Then again, I think I have, too.” 

“You’ve hit polysaturation?” Sara’s tone was teasing.

“Oh god, please don’t use the jargon,” Ryan said, and he sunk down into the couch cushions. “We’ll become even more insufferable than we already are.”

“We’re not that bad,” Shane protested. 

“You just referred to our unit as a collective,” Sara countered. 

“‘ _Our unit_ ,’” Shane said. “What are we, a bunch of soldiers?”

“Oh god,” Ryan groaned. “I’m fucked.”

“Yep,” said Sara. “Just embrace it.” 

Ryan couldn’t really argue with that.

* * *

Saturday was a warm, bright day. It was a typical midsummer day in Los Angeles, which was to say beastly hot and way too still. His car sounded like the roar of a dragon when he turned the key and he just stared at his steering wheel for a minute, wrapping his head around it. He was going to introduce his parents to his partners.

He was, officially, part of a triad. Not just kinda dating around, but part of a triad. He hadn't heard from anyone in his family since he'd asked to come over - had his mom told anyone else? Was the family going to be surprised? Oh god.

Ryan pressed his face into his steering wheel and groaned. He was wearing a nice pair of jeans and a red button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up at the forearms. He looked nice. Probably too nice, but he knew that Sara and Shane were dressing nice because it was a "meet the parents" type of deal, so he didn't want them to look fancy in comparison to him, but at the same time he didn't want to -

Ryan jerked out of chasing his own tail when his phone buzzed. He was still in his parking spot, his engine idling. He glanced at his phone and saw a text from Sara. 

_We're all ready_ , said the text message. 

_On my way_ , Ryan texted back. Of course, now that he'd said it he had to go pick them up, and his stomach twisted into knots. This was a bad idea. A horrible, horrible idea. But fuck it. 

It couldn't be worse than going into a demon-infested house. These were his parents. They loved him. He loved them. No matter what happened, everything would be fine. 

* * * 

Sara stood in lobby of their building, rocking on her heels. She wore a yellow dress printed with little white flowers, and a light grey cardigan was draped over her shoulders. It sat like a shawl, and she fiddled with its hem. It looked very soft. 

Shane had his hands shoved in the pockets of his dark red chinos, and he was shifting from foot to foot. He also looked antsy, although his face was less animated than Sara's, and hid it a bit better. He was also wearing yellow: a button-down shirt with a faint check pattern. 

Both of their faces lit up when he walked in, and some of the anxiety in his stomach lessened. "You guys look like a salt and pepper shaker set," said Ryan, which probably wasn't what he should have said because Shane made a face.

"Hi, Ryan. Nice to see you too," said Shane. "I'll go put on another shirt, hold on." 

Sara moved to stand next to Ryan, her hand going to rest on his shoulder. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," said Ryan, smiling at her. "You look pretty." 

"Thanks," said Sara. "You're looking very nice, too." She squeezed his bicep, then slid down to find his hand and hold on to his fingers. 

"Thanks," said Ryan, and he sighed. "I don't know why I'm so anxious, I know that my parents are good people, it's just..."

"You're sharing a big important life thing with your parents for the first time," said Sara. "I can understand why it's scary." 

"You guys aren't the first people I’ve brought home to meet my parents," Ryan protested. "Just... the first time it's been more than one person at a time." 

The elevator doors opened and Shane walked towards them in a blue button-down, still buttoning up the sleeves. He looked very nice, although he was probably going to melt. 

Sara adjusted her glasses and they caught the light, glittering like bits of quartz in the sidewalk. Shane was wearing his glasses as well, and he looked so... familiar, so comfortable, that whatever knot of tension had been building in Ryan's gut began to diminish. Sure, this was a new experience, but at the same time... it was Shane and Sara. He knew literally all the people he was going to see today. 

It would be fine. 

Perfectly fine.

* * *

Ryan's parents were very friendly, if a bit... stilted. He got hugs from each of them, his mother kissed him, his brother greeted him cheerfully enough. There were handshakes for Shane and Sara, and some awkward small talk. 

"So... how did you three meet?" Ryan's mother said. She knew the answer - she'd met them before - but there seemed to be a set of formalities that came with the official Meeting the Parents. The fact that he was going to be dealing with this twice more - holy shit, he was going to do this two more times. It was a thing that was going to happen. It was a thing that Shane and Sara wanted. 

Ryan was sitting on the couch, Sara on one side, Shane on the other. He was aware of them - the warmth of their bodies so close to his. He was aware of them as beings made of bone and meat and electricity, and how that bone and meat interacted with his own. 

"We work together," said Sara. "Me and Shane were, uh, were dating, and Shane and Ryan were best friends, and uh..." She licked her lips.

"It went from there," Ryan supplied. "You want me to help setting up lunch?" 

"Yeah, sure," said Ryan's dad, standing up. "C'mon." 

Ryan glanced back at Sara and Shane - they were still talking to his mother. That was a good sign, right?

* * * 

"So," Ryan's dad said as Ryan took plates out of the cupboard. 

"So," Ryan echoed. That knot was back in the center of his stomach, sinking like a stone.

"Are you happy?" Ryan's dad looked at him, full in the face. He was leaning back against the counter, his expression serious. 

It took effort to keep from breaking eye contact, and he was blushing in spite of himself. "Yeah," Ryan said. "Very happy."

"And it's all... above-board? They make you happy?" Ryan’s dad put a dish towel over one shoulder - it was reminiscent of so many childhood Saturday afternoons that, for a second, Ryan was twelve years old again. 

"Yeah," Ryan said, and then words were just spilling out. "It's, uh... it's like dating one person. Only there's two of them, obviously, but it's not all... wild parties or whatever. We're honestly really boring, we're just... we're just people." He trailed off, looking at his feet.

Ryan's dad patted him on the shoulder. "You always did things the complicated way," he told Ryan. "But... I'm glad you're happy." 

“Thanks,” Ryan said. It was like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. His father didn’t hate him. His father didn’t disapprove. 

It was okay. 

* * *

Things relaxed, a little bit. 

Shane and Jake knew each other already, from Jake volunteering to be filmed for little bit parts. At some point over lunch, the vibe… changed. Everything was peaceful. A complicated sort of peaceful, but still peaceful. 

Shane’s jokes were going over well, and Sara was quiet but still engaging in conversation. The tension in the room lowered degree by degree. Sara's hand creeped into his at one point, and their fingers laced together. Shane moved his arm so that it was around the back of the couch, and also around Ryan’s shoulders, one big hand reaching all the way to Sara’s shoulder. It was… comfortable. 

Once everyone was finished with lunch and all the beer was drunk (Ryan refrained - he was driving, after all), and there was a sea of empty bottles and crumb-covered plates on the coffee table. There was a lull in the conversation, and Ryan’s mother cleared her throat. “Ryan, help me clear up.”

“Right,” said Ryan, and he stood up carefully, disentangling himself from Sara and Shane. Jake was bringing out a deck of cards, and Shane was leaning forward, his elbows on his long thighs.

“So,” said his mother, when it was he two of them in the kitchen, putting plates in the dishwasher, “two people.”

“Yep,” said Ryan. So he was going to have this conversation twice. He had seen it coming, although he hadn’t assumed they would both involve the kitchen. 

“And… one of them is -” 

“A man, yes,” Ryan interrupted. “I know that’s not what you were expecting.” 

“I was going to say your coworker,” his mother said gently, and he was already regretting how quickly he'd jumped on her. 

“They’re both my coworkers, technically,” Ryan said. 

“That doesn’t make it any better,” said his mother. 

“Right,” said Ryan. “I’m sorry.”

“Why… why both of them? Is it because you’re in love with one of them, but they still love each other?” His mother looked like she was trying very hard.

“No,” said Ryan, and he fought the urge to cross his arms over his chest. “I… I care about both of them. A lot. They’re both wonderful.”

“How… how does commitment work?” She was getting the cake out of the fridge - it was a pretty thing with strawberries and pink icing. He didn’t know much about cakes, but he assumed it would be tasty. “Since you’re all three together. I assume it’s, um… different.” 

“We’re all committed to each other,” said Ryan. “It’s like a monogamous relationship. Only three of us, not just two people.” He didn’t think using a term like “polyfidelous triad” would be helpful right now. 

“What about the future? Marriage? Children?” His mother put the plate with the cake down on the counter carefully. She looked anxious, if not like she was going to cry, then maybe on the road towards it.

Shit.

“That’s the future,” he said firmly. “The way things are now, I’m… _we’re_ all happy. And I’m happy.”

“I know things are… difficult for people who are different,” she said, her arms wrapped around her middle, clutching her sides. “I worry about you being taken advantage of, or.. .something like that. Or about your job getting hard, because if you break up there’ll be twice as much unpleasantness to deal with...” 

“I’m a grown man,” Ryan reminded her. “I understand you’re looking out for me. I’d probably be worried too, if my kid started dating… y’know, someone as gorgeous as Sara and a giant ground sloth.” 

His mother bit her lip and then giggled, her face turning pink. “He doesn’t look like a ground sloth,” she said, scandalized. 

“Maybe more like a tree sloth,” Ryan suggested.

His mother’s whole face… spasmed, and then she was laughing - the same kind of ugly laughter that spewed out of Ryan’s own mouth sometimes. She leaned into him, and he opened his arms and held her as they both cackled like hyenas in the kitchen. 

“I’m glad you’re happy,” she said quietly, when they'd caught their breaths. “It’s not the happiness I would have seen, but… well, a lot of things aren’t the way I’d imagined them.”

“Like me going to haunted houses and talking to ghosts, or researching serial killers for a living?” Ryan’s voice was deadpan. 

“No, actually, that isn’t too surprising,” said his mother, and that brought on another gale of laughter. 

Ryan pressed his forehead into his mother’s shoulder and her fingers found his, her fingertips cold against the palm of his hand. “They make me happy,” he told her quietly. 

“I’m glad,” she said. “That’s the important part.” 

There was a quiet noise from the doorway, and Ryan looked up to see Shane looking at him with a concerned expression. Ryan gave him a thumbs up from behind his mother’s back, and then he let her go. 

“I’m sorry about Thanksgiving,” Shane said, and he sounded it, too. “We… kind of made our plans on the spur of the moment.”

“Right,” said Ryan’s mother. “Well… can we make a reservation for next year?” She gave Shane a tentative smile, and Shane smiled back - it was practically a beam. 

“Definitely,” Shane said. “I’ll put it on the calendar.” 

“You have a calendar?” Ryan’s mother looked intrigued. 

“Yeah,” said Shane. “It’s a, uh… a joke about relationships like ours,” He took his phone out and tapped away, presumably adding stuff to his calendar for real. “One of the main ways they function is through shared calendars.” 

“That makes sense,” Ryan’s mother said, her expression thoughtful. 

“So, I heard there was cake,” said Shane. “I was wondering if you needed help?” 

“Such a nice boy,” Ryan’s mother said. “You can get the plates.”


	6. Chapter 6

They went back to Sara and Shane’s place full of cake. Sara sprawled out in the back seat, and Shane leaned back into the passenger seat, his eyes at half mast. He looked tired, but comfortably so. 

“I’m gonna nap when we get home,” Shane told them. “If that’s okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?” Ryan signaled for a turn. He was very full of lunch and cake - he was half tempted to nap himself. 

“I dunno,” said Shane. “I feel like I’m being a bad host.”

“You’re not a host,” said Ryan. “You’re my boyfriend. You don’t have to provide me with entertainment when I visit you.”

“Right,” said Shane, then; “you’ve got a nice family.”

“Thanks,” said Ryan. “I’m not remotely responsible for them, but I do my best.”

“I think they liked us,” said Sara from the back seat. “Your dad has good taste in beer.” 

Ryan grinned. “You can be the designated driver next time,” he told Sara. 

“I can live with that.” 

* * *

Shane collapsed in the bedroom, flat on his back, his belt unbuckled and shirt unbuttoned. His snoring could be faintly heard through the open door. It made Ryan grin, because… well. Shane. He was so ridiculous.

It was good to be home - was it weird that this already felt like home? He wasn’t sure what to make of it, although when he sat back and thought about it… shit, they’d been together for… what, five, six months? Shit. He made his way towards the kitchen, his feet sinking into the carpet in the hallway. 

Sara was drinking a glass of water - she’d shrugged out of her sweater, and the bright yellow straps of her dress stood out strongly against her pale skin. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he tried not to be too much of a pervert as he watched the way her breasts bounced as she put the glass down in the sink. There was a little lipstick mark on the rim, and it stood out against the transparency of the glass. 

“Oh,” she said, smiling at him, a piece of hair sliding down over her ear. He reached out to tuck it behind her ear, and she took his hand in hers, pressing her cheek into it.

“Oh?” Ryan ran his fingers across the thin hair in front of her ears. . 

“We got you a key,” Sara said, and she leaned into him, hooking her fingers into his pants pocket. 

“A key?” He rested a hand around her waist, his fingers bunching up the fabric of her dress. 

“Yeah. You know, to the apartment?” Sara wriggled out of his grasp, making her way towards the little candy dish on the table by the door where all of the keys and mail ended up piled. She rooted around in it, then came back with a house key and handed it to Ryan. “Here ya go!”

Ryan paused, looking down at it. It was just your basic house key - cold metal, yellowish. He was blushing very hard. “I feel like Shane should be here,” he said, as he took out his keyring and slid his thumbnail into the little space between the rings so he could slide the key onto it. 

“Are you worried about him not approving?” Sara looked up at him, her expression faintly worried. She was rubbing her hands together, and shifting from foot to foot.

“Nah,” said Ryan. “This just feels… y’know. Ceremonial.” He slid the key onto the ring, moving it along until it settled in with his other keys. They clinked. 

“We can do a whole ceremony if you’d like,” said Sara. “I could probably find some hooded robes.”

“Of course you could,” Ryan said, and he leaned forward and kissed her, a quick peck on the lips. He sighed as her hands went to his shoulders, resting there as she leaned into him, her head just under his chin. Her breath was very warm against his skin, and her heart was beating very hard - he could feel it through her dress and his shirt. Maybe this meant just as much to her as it did to him. 

“Let’s watch a movie,” she said. “I want some cuddle time.” 

“That is a plan I can fully get behind,” said Ryan, and then he yawned. He was full, and feeling lazy, comfortable. He hadn’t realized just _how_ anxious he had been about taking Sara and Shane to meet his parents. Now he just had to meet Shane’s parents and Sara’s parents, and he’d be good. 

Hopefully. 

* * *

Ryan fell asleep on the couch.

It wasn’t like he _meant_ to! It was just that… well, Sara fell asleep on _him_ , her head pillowed on his chest, and he was sprawled out on the couch himself with his feet up, his head on one of the ridiculous fluffy pillows that Sara and Shane had. There was a documentary on - something about a guy who had a tickling fetish, which was… kind of weird, but whatever. Sara had chosen it, and Ryan was so comfortable that he started drifting in and out. At one point he was in that sweet place between dreaming and waking, and he thought he saw shapes dancing in the shadows of the walls - shapes like fairies, or maybe some other kind of spirits. But then it was normal again, and Sara rose and fell on chest as he breathed. 

When he woke up again, it was hours later. The light had taken on a hushed, faded note, as if it was coming in through a dirty window. Sara was still cuddled up to him, but she’d shifted around; her breasts were pressed into his stomach and she was straddling his leg. 

He, in turn, had a boner. Had he been dreaming about sexy things? He didn’t remember. He ran a hand down her back, smoothing out her sundress, and she sighed and shuddered as her eyes fluttered open. She lay there for almost a minute, clearly content to stay cuddled up - he wasn’t going to complain. He was stupidly comfortable. 

“How long were we asleep?” She sat up, just enough to scoot closer so that her head was on his shoulder, not his chest. She was still straddling his leg - his thigh, now - and her cunt was shockingly hot against him, even through the denim of his jeans. She was squirming just enough to occasionally jostle his erection, which was pressed against his other thigh. 

“Not too long, I don’t think,” Ryan said, looking out the window. His hand moved lower until it was right over her ass. “How are you feeling?”

“I had some… interesting dreams,” she said, and he realized with some surprise that she was grinding her hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a girl full-on hump his leg. 

It was really fucking hot.

“What kinda dreams?” His hand moved lower, holding on to her ass while he pushed his thigh up against her.

“There was a bunch of stuff,” she said. She was pressing little kisses along his jaw now, little pecks. He could feel the sticky residue of her lipstick - he was going to have to wash his face after he got up, or Shane would laugh at him. At least she wasn’t wearing the dark purple one that made him look like he’d gotten into a fight.

(Although, what would it be like, to ask her to mark him up? Ask her to leave hickeys up and down his neck, bites on his chest, scratches down his back. It was intriguing in a way that he hadn’t considered, and his cock twitched.)

“Was it good stuff? Bad stuff?” He shifted, careful to keep her in his lap, until he was sitting up with both feet on the floor. She was grinding in earnest, now, and he had a feeling she was wet. Her expression was taking on that slightly vacant cast she always got when she was especially aroused. 

“I don’t remember,” she told him, “but when I woke up, I just wanted to kiss you.” 

“So why haven’t you?” One of his hands went down the front of her dress to hold on to her breast. It was an awkward angle, but she still moaned when he squeezed, his thumb against her nipple. 

“Thought I’d get a good banter going,” she said. Her hand moved up to squeeze one of his arms. “God, you’re built.” She sounded almost reverent. 

He grinned, lifting her further up his thigh until they were almost belly to belly. She squealed and giggled as she leaned forward to kiss him, teasing little closed-lipped pecks against his mouth, his cheeks, his jaw. She clutched at his shoulders, her hips still grinding against him, and then her mouth was on his. He opened his mouth and her tongue slid in like a welcomed guest, swiping at his palate and then tracing the bluntness of his teeth. He moaned into her mouth, fumbling the straps of her dress down and then tackling the buttons down the front. When her breasts spilled out he sighed and held them in his hands.

“You are such a boob man,” Sara mumbled against his lips. She giggled again. 

“Are you saying I’m a man who’s a boob?” He pinched one nipple and she sobbed, her hips jerking forward. There was definitely a wet patch on his jeans now - her arousal was slimy against his skin where it soaked through the denim.

“You’re obsessed with mine,” Sara said, and her hand traced down his chest to cup his erection, pressing the heel of her hand against the head of his cock. 

“I can’t help it,” Ryan said earnestly, and he moaned, his hips rocking forward as he ground into her hand. “They’re just so _perfect_.” He pinched her nipples again, and she whined as she kissed him.

It was a more aggressive kiss this time - one of her hands was in his hair, forcing his head back, and her tongue was in his mouth, her teeth occasionally nipping at his tongue or lips. He wasn’t complaining - he loved it when she was aggressive. When any of his partners - past or present - were aggressive, really. He luxuriated in the sensation of being actively _wanted_. 

Sara was rubbing off on him like she was humping a pillow. There was something devastatingly hot about that - about being used as a _thing_ for her to get off on, like a plushie or the corner of a table in a particularly seedy sort of porno. She hissed through her teeth every time he pinched her nipples. Her heart raced under his hand, and when she forced his head back again he complied easily. Her mouth was hot and wet against his throat where it traced the line of his stubble, and her tongue was ticklish against his pulse point.

“If you leave a hickey, everyone is gonna make fun of me at work,” Ryan said. Then he squeaked, and he would have preferred to have made a more _dignified_ noise, but her mouth had latched on to his neck and she was sucking like a goddamn vampire, and who cared? His cock twitched in his pants and he squeezed her breasts a little tighter than he normally would, then moved his fingers back to her nipples to twist them like radio dials.

She moaned like she was being paid for it, her grinding getting more concentrated, and she bit him, a proper bite and not just a nibble. He was going to have a bruise in a difficult to hide place. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or not, but he was most _definitely_ aroused - especially when she pulled off with a “pop” and pressed a delicate little kiss on the spot. “I’m sorry,” she said, and then she pulled back, her thumb digging into the bruise, “I think I got some lipstick on you.” 

“It’ll wipe off,” said Ryan, in a dazed tone. 

“If you’re so sure,” Sara said, and then her teeth were on the other side of Ryan’s neck, higher up this time, almost under his jaw. The tendon practically _crunched_ and he sobbed, his cock twitching again. Her heart beat under his hand, and his pulse hammered under her teeth - there was something remarkably _circular_ about all of it. Or maybe he was just giddy with arousal and foggy headed with sleep - truly, it was a mystery. Her knees were digging into his thigh, and she was still rubbing herself against him, wet and sticky. 

“I’m going to have to wear a turtleneck on Monday,” Ryan said. He shifted his leg, grinding it up against her, and she made a desperate little noise high in the back of her throat. “Everyone is gonna ask me what I did all weekend.”

“Tell them the truth,” Sara said, and her hands were snaking between them, unbuttoning his jeans, unzipping them. She fished around in his boxers, and he groaned when the cooler air hit the overheated skin. 

“That you did it?” His hissed as she stroked him, holding on to his shaft with one hand and rubbing the palm of her hand across the top of his cock with the other, slicking it up with pre-come. He gasped, his hips jerking forward and his cock flexing in her hand, and she kissed him, still riding his thigh like a horny teenager who’d just ditched her purity ring. 

“Yeah,” Sara said, and the pad of her thumb was right under the head of his cock, her fingers splayed across the base. “Tell everyone that I marked your neck up after I met your parents.” She gave his cock one long stroke and he shuddered, pinching her nipple. 

“Can we maybe not talk about my parents at a time like this?” He shivered as his cock leaked pre-come across her knuckles, and she leaned in closer, pressing her breasts into his hands and her mouth against his ear. 

“What would you rather talk about?” Another long stroke and he was trembling, holding on tightly to her breasts now - she would probably be just as bruised up as he was, both of them stuck wearing shirts with high collars. Not that Sara was exactly known for wearing especially cleavage-y outfits, but still. He could feel her voice through her chest, up against his hand. It made his palms buzz.

“I… anything you want, Sara,” he said, and he meant it. He’d jump off the roof if she asked him to right now. 

“I.. want you to tell me things,” she said, and she nibbled on his ear. “Tell me what you want.” Her tongue traced along the edge of his ear, and his cock pulsed. He held on to the feeling like a lucky penny, and he tried to turn his face to kiss her. She leaned back, and her lips brushed against his teasingly. Then she found a particularly good angle and she moaned, dragging her cunt against the slimy denim on his thigh. 

“I want you,” he said, and she squeezed his cock, her fingers moving down until her palm was under his balls, rolling them in her hand. “Any way you want me, I want to… to be there. To be that. For you.” He pushed her breasts together, tweaking each of her nipples and then twisting them again, just to feel her calves flex against him. 

“What about if I wanted to ride your cock, right now?” She made to swing her leg over his, to straddle his waist. 

“No!” Ryan grabbed her thigh, squeezing it. “Please, if you… if you do that, I’m going to come.” It spilled out of him like water, trickling down his chin to ooze out of him like the pre-come coating her hand. “Don’t make me come, please, don’t make me come, don’t let me come. I don’t want to come!”

“Do you not want me to make you come, or do you not want me to let you come?” A skillful stroke, and a twist of her wrist that made him see stars behind his eyes.

“What?” His mouth fell open, his tongue already going dry.

“You said don’t make you, and then don’t let you. Which is it?” She pressed her thumb into the slit at the tip of his cock, and more pre-come beaded out.

“I… I don’t know,” Ryan said, and he jiggled his leg right up against her pussy, through her soaked panties and his sodden jeans. “I don’t know, I’m sorry, I just… I...” 

“And you don’t want to come?” Her hand sped up on his cock, spreading more pre-come, slick and smooth and hot. 

“N-no,” he said, and he had a hand on her lower back to help her keep her balance. Her toes were curling against his calf, and one of her hands was on the back of his neck, squeezing it. 

“Why not?” Her hand was moving faster - he was speeding towards orgasm, and he didn’t want her to make her stop but he didn’t want to come, either. She pumped her fist and it was the perfect pressure, all of her fingers pressing into him, her palm smooth and hot. 

“I… I want to stay here,” he said. “I want to be here with you, I want you to keep touching you, I want to keep loving you, I want you to know that… that I want you, I want… _fuck_!” The pleasure in his belly was beginning to crest, as if he was riding a wave.

And then she pinched the end of his cock. Took her thumb and index finger, and pinched it. The pain was intense, and so was the cessation of stimulation - he was dizzy with them both, as his orgasm subsided but the desperate ache stayed. Her other hand was in his hair, forcing his head back,forcing him to keep eye contact with her. She stared into his eyes as his cock spasmed and throbbed in her hand, the tip sticky with pre-come. 

“Is that what you wanted?” She'd stopped grinding, just keeping the eye contact. 

He nodded, too lost in his head and his body to have anything to say. His cock throbbed with something like pain. He was a mess of desperation and arousal, so on edge that it felt like a passing breeze would set him off. 

“Do you want me to edge you again? Or do you want to just stay like this?” She was riding his thigh again, and her hand smeared his pre-come on his shirt where she clutched at his shoulder, her other hand still in his hair. 

“S-s-stay like this,” Ryan stuttered. “Please. I’ll… what do you want… want me to do?” 

“Make me come,” she said, and then she sighed as his hand left her breast to slide between her legs, squeezing her vulva through her panties and then around them to touch the tip of his finger against her clit. He shifted, lifting her up carefully, and then two of his fingers were inside her, curling up against the roughness of her g-spot, and his thumb rolled over her clit. 

She was so smooth and wet, and squeezing him like a fist. She shuddered against him, riding his fingers the way she’d ridden his thigh. Her pussy pulsed around him with her heartbeat, and he kept rubbing as she tensed against him. His fingers were already pruning up - she was liquid inside, liquid heat, and he remembered the sensation of her pussy around his cock, the feel of this same squeezing. She sobbed, and then went utterly still against him. At least, still on the outside. Internally she was shuddering, twitching, her orgasm leaving her in one big muscle spasm. ore fluid dripped around his fingers, leaching into his jeans, and she shivered. 

“Haven’t done that in a minute,” she slurred, grinning at him. “Congrats, Ry. You made me squirt.” She wriggled and his fingers slid out of her. She grabbed him by the wrist and guided his fingers to his mouth. 

He sucked her cream, her slick, her squirt off of his fingers, taking in the sour-salt taste of her. His cock, still swollen and hot, twitched against his belly. “Didn’t know you could do that sitting up,” he said, his voice only slightly garbled around his fingers. 

“You’re good with your hands,” she told him, and she kissed the back of his, as she pulled it out of his mouth. “Although… do you really not want to come?" She indicated his cock. "That looks… painful.” 

“I like it,” Ryan admitted. “It’s, uh.. .it’s… it’s weirdly, uh...” It was hard to think when he was this horny. It was equally hard to think about something that he didn’t know how to put into words. 

“Weirdly?” She pushed his hair off of his sweaty forehead. 

“I like the physical proof that I… that I care about you,” said Ryan, clearing his throat, aware he sounded silly. “And the, y’know, the fact that I could go again right away, if you wanted me to. The fact that I’m just… I’m here for you, I’m ready. And also there’s just something weirdly _nice_ about it.” He shrugged, self conscious. “I don’t know. I’ve been using sex as a way to have orgasms since I first started jerking off. There’s something satisfying about taking that away.” 

Sara nodded. “Makes sense,” she said, and she squirmed against him. “Should I assume that you don’t want to come every time we have sex? You don’t want to come ever?” Her breasts were still bare, and he wanted to put his face in them.

“I… don’t know,” Ryan answered. “I can promise to keep you in the loop?”

“That’s all I ask.”

* * *

They showered together, and then Ryan borrowed a pair of Shane’s sweatpants. By the time the big guy woke up again it was late enough to be considered evening, and they ordered take out. Ryan sat at Sara and Shane’s table, eating Thai food, and they made jokes and movie references, back-and-forthing so well that Ryan almost wished there was a camera on them. 

“What happened to your _neck_ , Ryan?” Shane indicated the side of his own neck, and Ryan’s hand went up to touch a bruise. 

“I did,” Sara said brightly.

“You never mark me up like that,” Shane said. “I’m kinda grateful. As white as I am, I think I might end up turning purple.”

“Like… what’s her face, Violet, from _Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_?” Ryan shoved a shrimp into his mouth. 

“Something like that, yeah,” said Shane. “I still can’t believe that scene, of all things, spawned so many fetishes.”

“Anything can spawn a fetish,” said Sara, with feeling. 

“Speaking of,” said Shane, looking at Ryan with an interested expression. 

Ryan felt like a bug pinned to a card. “What’s up?” He took a swig of water and tried not to blush too hard.

“Remember ages ago, when I asked you to tell me a fantasy you had, and you told me that you wanted me to just wake you up riding your dick?” Shane said it casually, but it was still made Ryan flush. 

“Yeah? I mean yeah, I still remember that.”

“Still a thing you’re interested in?” Shane asked around a mouthful of bell pepper.

“Yeah,” Ryan said. “Definitely.” His cock, still sensitive from earlier, twitched in his borrowed sweatpants. His balls were still tight and heavy, and the heat in his belly was… well, it was nice. Not exactly comforting, but not unfamiliar either. “Although, uh… I’m kinda curious about something that you’d like. Kink-wise, I mean.”

“I’d like a lot of things, kink-wise,” Shane said. “Can I think about it?” 

“I like bossing you around,” Sara said, and Ryan glanced over at her and grinned. 

“That’s not news,” he told her. 

“I also liked, uh… keeping you from coming,” she said, and now she looked embarrassed. 

“I meant to ask,” Ryan said, “where’d you learn that technique?” 

“What’d you do?” Shane looked intrigued. “Were you guys messing around while I was snoozin’ away?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, and a tiny little twist of anxiety filled his stomach. “Sorry.”

“What are you sorry about? You don’t have to have a written permission slip or whatever to fuck your girlfriend,” said Shane. 

“She’s your girlfriend too,” Ryan pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re his boyfriend, using that same logic,” said Sara, indicating first Ryan, then Shane. “Unless this is some patriarchal bullshit I’m missing?” She gave each of them a Look.

“No, no,” Ryan said quickly. 

“Nope,” Shane said cheerfully.

“But, uh, yeah,” said Sara, and now she looked embarrassed. “I think I might have a kink for… y’know, being in control.”

“Should we get you a latex corset and a riding crop?” Ryan’s tone was teasing, but he was shifting, pressing his thighs together. Sara being bossy was… well. It sure did tick a lot of boxes in his head. 

“How would a latex corset, like… work?” Sara was frowning now. 

“Hmm?” Ryan ate another shrimp.

“How would a latex corset work,” Sara repeated. “Since how would the, like… boning work?”

Ryan and Shane made eye contact and started snickering. 

“Boning, you say,” Ryan said. 

Sara rolled her eyes. “You’re both the worst,” she informed them.

“You still love us,” Shane said.

“Well, yeah,” said Sara.

Ryan flushed, biting his lip, and tried not to grin too widely. 

“On the subject of boning,” said Shane, as if that was just a thing that you said, “Ryan, are you still on the orgasm denial… thing?”

“I, uh… I think so, yeah,” Ryan said. “If that’s not… too weird for you.”

“Just let me know what’s happening,” Shane said. “Should I assume that you don’t want to come unless you say otherwise?” He spoke about it as if it was… organized. As if they could just plan around Ryan’s latest neurosis. Ryan wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“I… I don’t know,” Ryan said, and he licked his lips. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Shane said, and he squeezed Ryan’s knee. Then he paused as if he was remembering something. “Wait, what did Sara do to keep you from coming?”

“She pinched the head of my dick,” said Ryan. 

Shane winced. “Like… what kind of pinched?”

“Gimme your hand,” said Sara, and she took two of Shane’s massive fingers between her index and thumb and squeezed them. “Like that.”

“Ow,” said Shane, grimacing. “Wow, Ry. You’re stronger than me.”

“I’m gonna record that for posterity,” Ryan told Shane. “Next time you give me shit about being afraid of a demon.”

“Do you want the internet at large to know that you like getting the tip of your dick pinched?” Shane had one eyebrow raised.

“I don’t _like_ having the tip of my dick pinched, I can just… take it,” Ryan protested. “When you put it like that, you make me sound like some kind of weird masochist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a masochist,” said Shane. “I mean… I kinda thought you were one already, what with the...” He patted the side of his neck.

Ryan flushed.

“You’re one to talk,” Sara countered, pointing her fork at Shane. “The hardest you’ve ever come was from me spanking you while I pegged you!”

“I never said that _I_ wasn’t a masochist,” Shane protested. “I just said that there's nothing wrong with it!”

“I didn’t know you liked being spanked,” Ryan said, intrigued. The mental image of bending Shane over and just… going to town on his ass, in every possible way, was more than a little appealing. 

“It can be pretty good,” said Shane. It was his turn to flush, from his cheeks all the way to his ears. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, big guy,” said Ryan, grinning at Shane. 

“How do you feel about cock rings?” Sara asked it the same way she would have asked his thoughts on ice cream, or _Star Wars_. 

“Uh,” said Ryan. “I don’t really have an opinion on them.”

“Well,” said Sara, “if you don’t want to come, we could try putting you in a cock ring, see if that’ll help? I know that they don’t keep you from coming, period, but they do stave off orgasm.” She was approaching it like she approached every other problem: thoughtfully. She was probably making a list in her head.

“I’ve never used one before,” said Ryan, “but don’t they intensify orgasms, not just keep ‘em away?”

Sara shrugged, and it was Shane’s turn to look thoughtful. “Well, would it still be fun if there wasn’t that bit of danger, that you could still come?”

“When you put it like that…” Ryan said, faintly sheepish.

“I’ll do my research,” Shane promised. 

“Research is good,” Ryan agreed. 

“You guys are both nerds,” said Sara.

“You’re one to talk,” Ryan said, indignant. 

“I didn’t say I’m _not_ ,” Sara said. “Just… you look genuinely excited to do a deep dive into research. That’s pretty nerdy.”

“It’s sex toy research,” Shane said. “How is that not cool?!”

“The fact that you’re looking into it as sex toy research and not, y’know, getting a chance to try new things,” said Sara.

Ryan shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the job rubbing off on us.”

“Better than rubbing off on the job,” Shane said, and he made finger guns.

Ryan and Sara made eye contact, and there was a moment where they connected on a level beyond mere existence - _how do we put up with this idiot?_ the look said. 

Shane, of course, was unrepentant.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different? 
> 
> Come talk to me on my twitter, TheseusInTheMaz (no e at the end).


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